


Signal In The Sky

by reliand



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Disney, M/M, Sky High AU, Superheroes, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliand/pseuds/reliand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gifted, new students of Beacon Prep, are being put through power placement and first year of superhero academy. Basically it's all Stiles has ever wanted, even if he thought Scott would be more excited when they finally got here. At least there's nice eye-candy like Lydia Martin, upperclassman, and the new counselor, Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Beth for her beta work, and I'm so sorry I hurt your eyes so much.  
> [](http://statcounter.com/free-web-stats/)

 

 

Getting accepted into Beacon Preparatory is basically a no brainer if your parents are super. Scott and Stiles have been on the list since they were born, because of course they were both part of a legacy, especially since Melissa had helped the Stilinski’s on many occasions, and vice versa.

Stiles’ father was known for being a damn good crime fighter even though he had been relegated to sidekick class. It wasn’t until after graduation that he had been able to climb out of the shadows of all the kids who were sure of their superiority.

Stiles’ gifts were a pain because he wasn’t supposed to use them in the house. Not after he was bending his parents to his lies so easily. Nobody had realized what was happening for weeks; just that Stiles was getting out of trouble so easily.

His parents had been furious because he’d been convincing them of his innocence in things he’d definitely done. That was just the start of his powers. He wondered if that was his parent’s bad luck because they were so good.

Good people? Here! Have a super special son!

Not that Scott was lacking powers. Scott told him he hated drawing attention to himself ever since his dad up and left town. It had been a huge scandal, and Stiles was certain the dude was going to start campaigning against the rights of superheroes. Mr. McCall wouldn’t have been the first person to lose it because they realized their family was awesome and powerful.

Finding out that everyone around you was dishonest had to drive anyone to madness. Stiles couldn’t really blame the guy. The McCall household had been rather tense at the end. Though none of them were energy dealers, there had been a crackle in the air of the obvious under current of anger and resentment. Stiles couldn’t even touch the walls without his hair standing on end like he was a magnet for static electricity.

Scott had been sullen for days leading up to inevitable departure of his dad. Stiles wasn’t exactly the best company because he promised to never use his powers on Scott. Telling him that everything was going to be okay when it clearly wasn’t was probably crossing the line; especially if Scott was bound to believe anything he said if Stiles just pushed a little influence behind his words.

Scott holed up in his room with Molly, whispering into her fur as she whimpered back at him. His dad didn’t even apologize when he put their German Shepard on a leash, loaded her into the back of a car, and then disappeared. Molly cried the entire time. Great, gasping whines through her nose that made Scott curl his arms around his knees as he watched from the sidewalk.

“At least you still got me,” Stiles tried to comfort, but Scott didn’t look at him. He only watched his dog, until she was around the corner and out of sight, and then he had let out a breath, eyes all watery.

“I had to be strong for her,” Scott told him. “She has a big job to do, and I’m holding her back.”

“That’s bull,” Stiles said without thinking and Scott peered up at him through wet lashes. “Your dad is just being petty. He knows that if he has Molly you might end up deciding to live with him.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Scott said because he wanted to believe the best in his father. Stiles grimaced.

“Course he would. This is classic of divorce. It’s the same thing Heather’s parents did when they decided they didn’t love each other anymore.”

The very public incident had wounded the superhero community. Not much divorce if your significant other was also your partner in saving humanity. Melissa and Rafael had never been a crime fighting team, however. Eternally divided by being Gifted. Though Melissa McCall was a natural healer, it was the community who banded together to help her and Scott in their time of need.

*************

“I really could care less about finally entering Beacon Prep,” Scott sighs, stirring his soggy cereal without any enthusiasm.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles questions. “We can finally use our powers in front of people and not get punished for it! We are actually going to get out of the label of freaks.”

Scott snorts. “I doubt we’re going to lose that brand just because we’re switching schools.”

“We’re moving on up in the world, Scotty-boy. We are leaving things like that behind, and we’re going to learn how to save people’s lives.” Stiles sweeps his hand out in front of him and Scott, trying to make Scott envision the perfect world they are going to be entering.

Scott slaps at his hand with a smile. “Stop. You’re getting all excited and putting a little extra oomph behind your words. You might actually make me believe them.”

“Maybe I’m just great at making a case,” Stiles says, sticking out his tongue. His dad cuffs him on the back of the head as he comes into the kitchen.

“You better not be using your powers already this morning,” the Sheriff laughs.

“What’s the point of having powers if you can’t even use them at any given time?” Stiles asks, pushing his spoon into his mouth to eat the last bite of his fruity pebbles.

“So what you’re saying,” his mom starts as she sweeps into the room, “is that since we’re special we should go around flaunting it?” She’s only half-dressed, probably because she heard them talking and decided to investigate. The bare skin of her arms and face showcase the smattering of moles that Stiles inherited.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles answers with a nod. He licks at his spoon and then grabs his bowl from the table, lifting it up to his mouth so he can drink the pinked milk. Sickeningly sweet liquid that is probably covering his teeth in sugar pours into his mouth, and he takes a swallow. As he gulps a second time he gets a flash of his mom’s pretty dark hair and thick fingers tangled in it, the smell of his dad’s aftershave as mom rubs her face across his chin.

Stiles chokes, coughing and spluttering and slamming the bowl down on the counter. “Oh my God! Why?” he asks, looking at his mom with betrayal.

“Why not? I was just showing you how awesome I am,” she says around a smile. “You should see the kind of stuff I project into the brains of obnoxious people that aren’t my son.”

“You are a cruel person. I don’t know why anyone has mistaken you for one of the good guys,” Stiles pouts. “Are you trying to scar me for life?”

“Now you’ll know better than to push your power onto others,” his mom singsongs. Stiles scowls and Scott is trying to hide a smile behind his hand. “Now get your butts to the pickup. Power placement is an important part to beginning your journey.”

Stiles rolls his eyes because the important part will be graduating. The sheriff starts wiping up the mess of milk that Stiles sprayed across the counter and says, “Make us proud son.” He ruffles Stiles’ hair as he passes and his mom kisses them both on the cheek before they flee.

***************

The school is huge. The fact that it is a mansion on a floating, giant rock is probably the coolest thing since ice.

Stiles expected a boring brick building like elementary and junior high, but Beacon Prep is built of stone. Winding vines crawl up the walls, making it look older than the few decades it’s been in place. The plants probably had some help. Stiles thinks he sees a garden out back, which is thriving and way too big to just be growing on its own; especially since they’re not even connected to earth anymore, not really.

A molten pit of death surrounds the edge of the rock. It keeps switching in color from a smooth, fiery red and orange, to black. Stiles spots a couple of upperclassmen playing by the moat, changing the river from molten to obsidian and back. “I wonder if that’s a safety measure against villains,” Stiles says to Scott, nudging his arm and nodding to the lava.

“More likely feuding students,” Scott mumbles. “Ten bucks says the person who made it turns out to be a miscreant.”

“Ugh, quit using such big words. It’s only our first day. Also, I’m not making a bet on that because that’ll be the easiest ten bucks you’ve ever made.” Scott grins.

Above them, a few students fly in, a stream of smoke follows behind the boy with pink chucks and Pepto-Bismol fro. There is a bunch of cheerleaders doing overly acrobatic flips and Stiles notices one that has limbs that are stretching far too much to be normal. It makes Stiles cringe; her bones must be able to turn rubbery at the drop of a hat.

A small group of students gathered, watching them practice. Stiles sees eyes lingering on the backs of bare thighs, which makes him roll his own because it looks like it’s going to be the beginning of high school all over again. They move up the stairs and into the building, and Stiles sighs heavily when a bratty looking rich kid stops him and Scott almost immediately.

His hair is perfectly in place and his cashmere sweater makes Stiles want to burn it in the moat of lava. 

“Hey newbies,” the guy gripes, and Stiles has never understood the need to group an entire grade as people that are lesser than their peers.

“What’s up?” Stiles asks, hoping to get this over with. Scott looks at the guy earnestly, almost approvingly, but Stiles learned early that too much gel usually means that they are overcompensating.

“If you want to get to orientation on time, you better hand over your student fees,” the guy drawls. Scott doesn’t look so excited to have someone interacting with him anymore.

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” Scott says and tries to move forward. The guy flicks a hand out and the tips of each finger are adorned with sharp, clear claws.

“Nice manicure,” Stiles snarks, and the guy actually has the nerve to smile. His claws gleam menacingly for a moment, a slimy looking liquid sliding out of them, and he looks like a snake ready to strike when a piercing scream rattles the hall.

Stiles and Scott slap their hands over their ears in an effort to stop the culling. The guy in front of them is cringing, knees buckling a bit, his claws sink back into the flesh of his nail beds as he turns towards the offending noise.

 

 

It’s days like these that Derek is grateful he isn't graced with the gifts his family has been born with for generations.

Lydia Martin is on the prowl again and she has been known to break all the glass in the building when her lungs were put to good use. Derek can see several shifters shrinking to the floor, some in midshift as they try to bury their heads in their arms. Derek winces at their pain, flashes of it beating behind his eyelids.

Derek remembers Lydia’s placement last year. Everyone does.

She’d been sorted into heroine classes accordingly after she had incapacitated a quarter of the school when it had been her turn. Personally, Derek thinks she would be happier if they just gave her a diploma and sent her out into the world to be done with it. She has signs of villain written all over perfectly pressed skirts, along with the fact that she has her own pet monster. Of course, she just so happens to also be the student body president.  

The cull doesn't last long and soon students are re-situating themselves and moving on to class. Derek splits off from a crowd of students in their last year, his former classmates, to corral Cora into the placement room.

“You’ll do great,” he says with a small smile. It doesn't reach his eyes even though Cora has a look of complete confidence. That look doesn’t match her mood, which makes it impossible for Derek to be completely ecstatic. His smiles often fall flat around her.

Nerves. She may look fine, but Derek can practically taste the anxiety that is clouding the hallway. “Have fun,” Derek tells her, clenching her shoulder before he steps away from her and next to the door frame.

A bunch of young faces are coming towards the room. A curly headed, blonde boy materializes out of a wall and almost runs right into him.

“Sorry, sorry!” he yelps, sidestepping Derek and continuing on his way. Derek wants to laugh, but he can’t under the thick layer of pain that is still swelling inside the hallway. Perhaps there is a shifter close by.

“I can’t believe that pouty little redhead took him down with just a look!” a lanky looking boy crows.

“You mean a scream,” his companion corrects. He’s got a brown tone to his skin and a crooked jaw, and he’s rubbing at his forehead like he has a headache. Derek wonders if he’s the shifter that’s projecting.   


“Po-tat-o, pot-a-to,” the taller one says, waving a hand at his friend. “Who cares how she did it? God, I think I’m in love with her.”

“That’s just great, Stiles. Falling in love with someone who pretended we didn’t even exist once she had her pet under control. 

“He did seem like a pet, didn’t he?” Stiles asks as the other boy nods, giving Derek an apologetic look as they pass him going into the gym; more power placement kids who are bound to be disappointed by the likes of Lydia Martin.

Almost everyone knows that Lydia and Jackson are more than just pet and master.  They are the bold and the beautiful, easily the most envied pair of students in years.

Not only is Lydia beautiful, but a pure genius, and her beau is lethal. Jackson is technically not allowed to shift unless in the presence of Lydia, who can tame him.

Derek sighs before treading into the room along the wall trying not to be seen before he takes his spot in the bleachers to watch over the events.

Derek was vetted before he graduated. It’s no secret that he isn’t the most gifted of everyone in the school, but there was no way he was going to be matched with a hero. Derek isn’t the best of company. The school probably felt sorry for him, after what they let happen to him under their watch in the past.

Derek had been placed in sidekick classes, but then he had the privilege of never becoming one. He doesn’t have a secret identity either. Life is easier when you can slip under the radar and not be required to work for humans who might guess your secrets.

It was still a lot on his shoulders when he’d been passed over; only member of his family to have been totally bypassed as a hero. His mom said he was still beautiful to her, that he wasn’t the disappointment he thought he was. Derek felt her honesty down to his very bones and the relief lifted his heart. He vowed to work hard to make her proud anyway.

Cora will do fine, he thinks, squirming on the hard bench. She is a scrappy little thing.

Derek looks around what could technically qualify as a gymnasium, not that it ever gets used for it. The Underdome is where selection takes place and where training exercises begin to make the burgeoning brats better with their powers.

Derek’s never participated. He wishes he doesn’t have to be in the room right now, not with so many people, but he promised the headmistress that he would attend the assembly. The nerves and excitement are making his fingers twitch, along with a bit of fear is slipping through as well. There’s a chatter among the crowd until the click of heels enters the room and Derek cowers minutely.

Mrs. Argent is in one of her crisp pencil suits, her stern look still striking the fear of God in Derek, even if he has personally never incurred her wrath. Intimidation is the key to her running such a cut and dry curriculum. The students of Beacon Prep rarely disobey or cause trouble.

Mrs. Argent steps onto the dais then comes to a halt in front of the student gathered.  Her smile is grim as she assesses them, no doubt deciding who is weak already. She made the same judgment of Derek; she is rarely ever wrong. 

“I know some of you are averse to putting your power on display, but for the sake of furthering your education I need you to forget about your nerves. We have no time for emotional outburts.”

A small murmur breaks from a couple of the students gathered and Derek can see Mrs. Argent’s frown from where he is seated in the bleachers.

“Would you care to share what’s so fascinating that you feel the need to interrupt me?” She questions. The two boys from earlier, Stiles and his friend, shake their heads. Stiles says a quick, “No, not at all.”

“Then I’m sure you can keep your comments until we’re done here.” She raises an eyebrow, silently daring them to speak. “We’ll see if you boys can wow us with whatever ability you’ve been blessed with soon enough.” Suddenly, they look nervous, but Mrs. Argent turns away from them and addresses the whole room.

“Now. Welcome to Beacon Prep. In just a few moments we’ll be doing your sorting, but first, I am Mrs. Argent. I am Mrs. Argent, the Headmistress of Beacon Prep and the enforcer of discipline here, so getting on my bad side would be unwise.  I’ll be the one deciding where you go for the next few years, and Mr. Hale,” she gestures behind her, making the students look at Derek. Making them murmur amongst themselves.

Derek presses his lips together and hunches in on himself under their attention. He can practically feel Cora rolling her eyes, probably embarrassed that her brother is in a career track that is hardly heroic.

“Mr. Hale will be sitting in to learn a little bit about you. Some of you might end up finding his office to be quite the sanctuary this year. If you need any help then he’s the guy to go to. Would you like to say anything Mr. Hale?”

Derek gives his head a firm shake because absolutely not, and really? How much help could he possibly be to a bunch of hormonal teenagers? Being an emotional wall for them could only do so much. Counselor was really the worst title they could give him when he couldn’t even work through his own emotions.

“Mr. Hale is our new counselor and is much better equipped to handle drama and all that jazz.” She smiles menacingly and then raises an eyebrow. “Now, who would like to go first? Any volunteers?”

Nobody comes forward, which is unsurprising; no one ever does.

Derek notices a boy with dark skin take a step backward, away from the platform. When he bumps into the blonde behind him he disappears from view, and she flinches backward. Derek’s mouth quirks up at the corners. The boy seems to have a useful talent for someone so shy.

“You there,” Mrs. Argent says. “Thank you for being our first hero this year.” She is pointing in the general vicinity of where the boy disappeared and he materializes under her attention. “What’s your name?”

“Vernon Boyd,” he answers, voice deep. He looks uncomfortable under her gaze.

“Well Vernon, congratulations.” She writes something on her clipboard and then turns her focus on someone else, calling him or her onto the stage. This is how it goes every year.  Students take their turn on stage, embarrassing themselves or showing off.

There’s a girl with hands of heat and a guy named Danny who has the gift of luck. Mrs. Argent puts him in sidekick classes, saying that he’ll be useful to whatever hero he gets paired with. Danny says he doesn’t mind, Derek can feel his collected calm that proves it.

The blonde Vernon bumped into has an electric current running through her skin. Her name is Erica and she tells them she only found out she was special when she had touched her dad sending him into a seizure. Derek supposes he’ll have to talk her through that; the kids from human families always have it hardest.

The boy who walked through a wall earlier is named Isaac. Also shy of attention, Derek notes as he steps on the platform. Derek knows it’s mean, but he has to cover his mouth when he snorts with laughter at the kid with fast fingers. His fingers are practically vibrating and he’s so proud when he has a small pile of origami at his feet in under a minute. Over half the room is openly laughing at him.

Mrs. Argent’s lip curls as she mutters, “sidekick.” He steps down dejectedly as she throws another comment at his back. “Perhaps they’ll find something more useful for your fingers than paper cranes and eight-pointed stars.”

Stiles snorts and Derek can only imagine if he’s thinking of the same thing as Derek. That boy is going to make someone very happy someday. He can only wonder about the multiple orgasms that are going to come from his hands.

A girl at the back of the group changes the color of everyone’s clothing with a snap of her fingers, and the list goes on.

Cora gives an impressive performance of shifting into first Derek then Vernon, all the while with a perpetual scowl. “Impressive. Not many shifters have such freedom,” Mrs. Argent intones. Derek smiles because Cora is actually getting praise. It doesn’t happen often under the headmistress.

“I can only change into those I’ve touched,” Cora clarifies. Mrs. Argent shoots a look at Derek, as if wondering why she’d be touching him. “Derek’s my brother.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Argent sniffs. “Still quite useful. Hero track.” Cora’s face stays stony but Derek can feel her excitement. “You,” Mrs. Argent gestures to Stiles, who has been fidgeting since she entered the room. “Come on up here. Show me what you’ve got.”

The crowd lets out a gasp when he disappears in a cloud of glitter and reappears at her side, dousing her suit with shiny speckles that are going to be a bitch to get off. Derek laughs, can’t hold it back when he sees the murderous look on Mrs. Argent’s face. Stiles’ gaze meets Derek’s over her shoulder and he fucking winks. Derek drops his eyes to the floor.

The little brat is so satisfied with himself, and Derek is sure that he’s going to be stuck below the school for his classes for the next few years. He’s surprised when Mrs. Argent says, “hero,” and scribbles on her list. “Another teleporter in our masses.” She seems displeased, though Derek knows her own daughter carries the title. She ticks off more students as they take their turn and then she’s calling the crooked-jawed boy who entered with Stiles. “Name?”

“Scott, Scott McCall,” the boy answers and Derek winces. Everyone knows about Scott McCall and how his father couldn’t be bothered with his family when he found out what they were. Mrs. Argent doesn’t look sympathetic as she beckons Scott forward. He goes, albeit reluctantly, but once he’s on the dais he just stands there.

“Well? We don’t have all day…”

“I don’t use my powers,” Scott answers and most of the students start whispering to each other. Stiles looks upset, glaring at a few of them.

“I’m asking you to,” Mrs. Argent tells him, holding her hand out to silence everyone.

“And I said no. Do what you have to, but I’m not a performing monkey.”

The crowd gasps at his flagrant disregard for her authority. Mrs. Argent’s lip curls, but she doesn’t look quite as menacing covered in glitter. Derek shifts in his seat, feeling a headache coming on from the sudden onslaught of anger.

“Sidekick,” Mrs. Argent whispers, eyes wide and vexed.

 ***************

 

Lunchtime rolls around and with it a barrage of students complaining about where they’ve been sent; below the school or actually inside it.

The thing about Beacon Prep is that only the students pegged for hero status get the opportunity to learn inside the building. Everyone else, or hero support as they’re called, get sent below the school. Their classrooms circle around the Underdome, and yet they will hardly get to participate in a mock battle because of their status. It’s up to the heroes to save the day.

Derek leaves the Underdome knowing that he wants to speak to a couple of the students in the ranks. This is Derek’s day job, what he does when other heroes and sidekicks are playing realtor or secretary or delivering mail. He gets to make their kids feel better about themselves, or at least try. It’s easier to suss out when they can’t lie about being fine.

The McCall kid seems to want to be normal, which is difficult when you’re not. Derek will have to speak to him, he decides, as he steps into line for lunch, conveniently behind Scott and his friend Stiles.

There were plans to head to the prison straight from power placement, but he’ll need to see McCall first.  

Derek is listening to them converse, which is bad form, but he’s standing right behind them and he’s got good ears. It’s not his fault that they failed to notice him.

Stiles has his hands on Scott’s shoulders, working at the muscles there. “I can’t believe you did that, dude. I don’t think anyone has ever refused to show their power before.”

“Why should I? It’s not like I asked for this.”

“Of course not Scott. It’s just— what’s your mom going to say?” Stiles asks. Scott shrugs.

“I’m not going to tell her,” Scott replies. Stiles tenses but doesn’t say anything. They move forward a few feet and Derek can smell cheese and marinara wafting out of the cafeteria.

“Did you see that Derek Hale guy?” Stiles asks.

“Kind of hard to miss,” Scott responds. “Though I didn’t even know the Hales had a son.”

“His family is legendary. It’s rare for genes to produce entire generations of shifters,” Stiles says and Derek squirms.

“Not if they’re only…ya know—with other shifters.” Derek can feel his embarrassment, but over that the heat of amusement, the burn of arousal.

“Having sex?” Stiles asks. Derek can practically hear the smirk, can feel it under his skin. “Dude. What I wouldn’t give to be counseled by Mr. Hale.”

“Gross,” Scott says, instantly understanding where this is going and Derek wants to be embarrassed, but he’s being encased in a cloud of teenage hormones.

“Oh, man. Mr. Hale. I like the sound of that. Do you think he’d _counsel_ me sexually?” Stiles asks. “I’d get all up on that.”

Derek coughs behind them to get Stiles to shut up. Stiles turns, guiltily, knowing he’s been caught. “Oh my God...please forget this ever happened. I’m already a highly sexual person. I don’t need help,” he rambles.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Derek steps forward, almost on Stiles’ shoes they’re so close, and the boy lets out a yelp.

“You’re seriously going to do this right here?” Stiles asks, shifting to look around the room. No one is paying them any attention though, too busy shoving food in their faces or making friends with their fellow heroes or sidekicks.

Derek gives him a look. “No. I’m trying to get closer to my lunch.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Stiles says and takes a step backward, only turning when he’s put some space between himself and Derek.

“I am so embarrassed to call you my friend,” Scott says next to him. He’s got his face in his palms, trying to hide. They move through the rest of the line in silence as Derek eats quickly so he can make his way back to his office. The meek little blonde from power placement is waiting outside the door. She’s set herself up in one of the metal folding chairs and she stands up slowly as Derek approaches, pushing her straggly locks out of her face.

“You waiting for me?” Derek asks her.

“Mrs. Argent thought I should come see you. She pulled me aside after placement.” Derek’s surprised. As much of a hard ass as Victoria Argent can be, he didn’t think she’d be sending any students his way, at least not so soon.

“Okay. Come on in Miss--”

“Reyes. My name is Erica,” she tells him, ducking inside his office when he opens the door.

Erica is sweet, shy, and hates her power. Says she hasn’t been able to touch anyone in months for fear of hurting them. Derek can sense her guilt before she even mentions her father. Derek doesn’t really say anything. He lets her talk and talk for the better part of an hour before she decides she should go to class. He tells her to come back in a few days if she needs to get more off her chest.

When she’s gone, the room seems like a void and Derek’s glad they’ve put a dampener on the room to keep out other people’s emotions. He’s sure that if Lydia Martin made her ear-piercing scream it wouldn’t make it through the walls to reach him. Nor would all the shifters’ pain.

He sits in his office that is filled with calm and quiet, completely empty of all emotion.

************

 

The next day is much different than the first because Derek stays cooped up. He needs a reboot after yesterday’s onslaught of teenagers. He sends for McCall and writes up a small note about Erica. He’s unpacking a box filled with paper and manila folders by the time the student shows up.

“Is there some reason you called me here on the second day?” Scott asks. Derek asked for a comfortable chair so people would be more at ease when talking to him; Scott sits in it immediately. The incessant tap of his fingers against his kneecap is pounding out a rhythm that Derek doesn’t know, but it’s obviously music.  Scott is hunched in on himself, back slightly bowed against the back cushion of his chair. Derek doesn’t have to read his body language to know he’s uncomfortable.

“I just want to see how you’re doing, I guess,” Derek starts.

“You guess?” Scott asks. An eyebrow raises, mouth downturned. “I thought counselors were supposed to be good at this conversing crap.”

“Well, technically they’re good at listening and diagnosing, but it’s not like I have a degree in this shit, so I wouldn’t really know.”

Scott nods, but says, “Is that even legal? I mean, have you ever even taken psychology?”

“Have you?” Derek throws back. Scott rolls his eyes. He’s at high school level coursework, so the obvious answer is no. “I’ll let you in on a little secret; _we_ are not bound by human laws. That’s the beauty of having a superpower.”

Scott doesn’t look convinced, but he’s got a tiny smile lifting the corner of his mouth. It lifts the side of his face, makes his jaw look even, and Derek thinks it looks weird. Derek likes the fact that Scott’s face is so obviously mismatched and doesn’t play the game of pretending to be symmetrical. It makes him look like a puppy tripping all over himself.

“Here’s a tip: as a school counselor, I don’t think you’re supposed to curse at us.”

“Noted, though I’d like to hope you guys will be willing to share things with me, and if you need to curse to get your point across I’m not going to reprimand you for it. I’m not your mother.”

“Of course not. You’re not pretty enough to be my mom,” Scott smirks. It makes Derek feel playful.

“That’s not what your friend said yesterday,” Derek says before he can think the words through. Scott rolls his eyes again. Magically, he doesn’t call Derek a creep for bringing the conversation back up.

“Stiles doesn’t know what’s good for him. He’s got a thing for powerful people,” Scott says with a sigh. “He’s had a crush on all the X-men since before he got his gifts.”

“I never said I was powerful, though.”

Scott shrugs and says, “It’s no secret you’re from a family of shifters.” Derek nods.

“Yep. All the Hales bonded by their own brand of superhero...all except one.” Derek points a lazy finger at his own chest.

Scott looks interested. The bow of his back straightens as he sits forward, coming to the edge of his seat. “You can’t shift?” Derek shakes his head. “What can you do then?”

Derek grimaces, hates sharing. “Why don’t we get back to you.” It’s more statement than question. “What’s your gift?”

Scott closes up. Posture and features drawing back in. “I think we’re done here.”

Derek feels nothing but a desperate need to escape.

**************

Derek heads to the prison when school lets out. He gets a backwards teleporter that comes to his office angry at her professors. Derek doesn’t really know what to do because he starts agreeing with her when she badmouths them. He can’t even remember if she gave him her name. Something Green, or Green something. All he knows was that he’s seething with anger right alongside her, and then she leaves mollified within a few minutes.

The prison reminds him of the Underdome. All underground and filled to the brim with people who want to be better. These ones, however, ended up thinking they could take over the world. That’s the problem with a world filled with people better than the average person. Not everyone is going to use their power for good, but then again, average people often are not as nice as they seem either.

This is how Derek spends his afternoons. He leaves behind a building that resembles a high school full of burgeoning heroes to come below the earth for more pain. Not truly being heroic, like the people putting the villains behind bars, but at least providing some help with the only way he can.

Panoptic Prison is huge, housed under the city in stone and steel and the hecatolite that spiderwebs through the walls. The mineral has thankfully not been given to the human population in order to subdue those more powerful. It would be like using kryptonite on Superman, if he existed.

Panoptic is cylindrical in shape, barred cells line the walls. It’s modeled predictably how humans like to house their prisoners, but more methodically so the prisoners can be watched at all times. At the center of each level is a guard station, which has a catwalk leading to each cell. The only way out is up and through the main guard station, which is where Derek is right now.

It’s the only room in the entire prison that doesn’t render superpowers useless. Hecatolite isn’t used here, because Stilinski is the warden and his power is what keeps the place running at full speed. Being unable to fall asleep and never feeling the strain of exhaustion has its perks.

“I’m glad you could come down here today, son,” he says to Derek. He’s got a gun holstered on his belt, and Derek wonders how effective it is. Most human weaponry doesn’t work on The Gifted. Stilinski sees him looking and grins, winks at Derek which makes his brain nudge at him. The movement reminds Derek of someone. “It’s laced with liquefied hecatolite. Makes it easier to drop prisoners on the verge of escaping or the ones that are uncooperative during questioning.”

Derek nods, feels excitement coursing through him. “That’s what you’re here for though. We shouldn’t have so many problems now that we have two telepaths on our side. We should be able to get an easier read on these criminals now.”

“With all due respect sir, I’m not a telepath,” Derek corrects. Stilinski’s eyebrows draw together, and he frowns at the folder on his desk. It’s open, Derek’s stony face looking out of it.

“Your file says you’re part of the _Pathec_ sub-track,” Stilinski says.

“Yes, sir,” Derek nods, “but I can’t read minds. They put me in _Ethos_ and _Pathec_ work my final year, but I’m strictly an empathetic.” Stilinski doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Derek is sure he’s just dropped a bomb that wasn’t supposed to be given. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”

Stilinski looks up. “You can feel that?” Derek nods.

“If you’d rather I wasn’t present during questioning, I’ll completely underst—”

“That’s actually quite remarkable,” Stilinski says with a smile. “I mean you can’t read his mind, but you can read what he’s feeling. It’s much harder to guard thoughts than feelings. At least I’d assume so, anyway.”

“There’s no hiding emotions from me sir. I can feel them all.”

“Good. That’s really good.” He’s thoughtful for a second, closing Derek’s file up and says, “Wait here for a minute. We’ll be escorting a prisoner up from Level E.”

********************

With a mind reader and Derek on the case they’re able to figure out whether their villain is lying and where he is holding his freeze ray. Apparently it was left in the hands of his minions, who were busted hours later.

Derek’s no slouch when it comes to working, but he’s a bit exhausted when he has to go to the school in the morning. It’s a shame he never realized that The Gifted have it the hardest. They have their day jobs then have to go out and save the world on top of it; Derek doesn’t like it at all. He already misses being a student and having only the responsibility of doing his homework and making it to class on time.

He tries to speak to Scott again, but all he feels is Scott’s irrational anger for being pulled out of class. It makes Derek angry at himself. Other times he gets embarrassment hanging all around him in shades of balsa and brown.

Lydia Martin clicks her way into his office after lunch and declares that during her free period she’s coming here to work.

“You have no idea how hard it is to get work done when people are worshipping you,” she says.

“You’re right. I don’t,” Derek sighs. “I’m sure I could just follow you around for the day and feed off your emotional hard-on over the whole ordeal though.”

Lydia raises her chin, doesn’t smile, but her eyes do. Her soul says she is amused, because it makes Derek’s stomach swell with excitement. “You might not be bad company. Just don’t talk to me; unless I tell you to.”

Derek doesn’t argue. He doesn’t really have a need for words, especially when nobody wants to listen to them. She sits, pulls out her books, and cracks one open. She’s on a different track than Derek was. What she’s learning is something he’ll never know about, something about thermodynamics and currents.

He’s never understood why it wouldn’t be prudent for sidekicks to know how the world works the way heroes do. Lydia is quiet while she reads, calm and collected and it puts Derek at ease while he opens a book on costuming. Nothing fiction ever finds its way between his fingers because he can’t feel for the characters like normal people do.

Lydia backs out of the room a little after one and Greenberg flounces into his office fifteen minutes later. She’s in better spirits today, only rages about one of her professors, and makes sure to smile the entire way through it. It doesn’t look pleasant on Greenberg’s pixie face. It’s more manic than sweet, but perhaps that’s her inner villain shining through. She gives Derek a salute on her way out the door, long chestnut hair flowing behind her, and that’s how the next few weeks fall.

Scott, Lydia, and Greenberg are his constant visitors, and McCall still won’t tell him his power. Won’t tell him why either, even though he suspects it has something to do with his father. Lydia does her nails while she works, or braids her hair in fancy plaits. Greenberg gripes at him.

Erica comes by again, this time wearing a dark pair of gloves that reach her biceps and her hair pulled into a high ponytail. “You look happier,” Derek tells her.

“Not really. I mean, I’m enjoying hero track, but it’s hard to practice my power when I’m not allowed to touch anyone.” She presses her lips together in resignation and Derek gets a wretched pull near his heart that belies the look Erica had on her face when she entered his office.

“Erica,” Derek starts, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

He hates doing this. Had no plans of letting any of the students know about his gift. Even when he attended Beacon Prep himself, only the teachers knew what he could do until senior year, and then he’d been a joke. He stands from his chair and makes his way around his desk. Putting a foot of space between himself and Erica.

Erica looks rapt, curiosity is burning at Derek’s stomach, even though he knows what he’s going to say. “I know it’s not the same thing. I know you can’t touch others through skin to skin contact, but what if I told you that you’re touching me right now?”

She gives him a look. One of those faces that says he’s full of crap. “Yeah, right…”

“It’s different than you physically connecting with me,” Derek says, and he reaches his hands out, gripping her arms where they’re covered in leather and sweeps down the length of her forearms, until his fingers are against hers. “I am emotionally tethered to you while you’re in my presence.”

“What kind of superpower is that?” Erica asks, voice a little breathy. She’s jittery because he’s got his hands against hers, but he would stop immediately if he felt her discomfort.

“One that people take for granted.” Derek’s looking down at her, into her pretty brown eyes, and swears he can see her vulnerability, not just feel it through his gift. “I may not be the most powerful person to come out of Beacon Prep, but when I say ‘ _I know how you feel_ ’, I actually mean it. I’m not trying to placate anybody.”

“Wow. That actually makes me feel kinda bad,” Erica says. “I’ve been so mopey when I’ve come in here.” Derek blinks down at her.

“You had every reason to be. I’m just here to try and help. No one ever said I’d be successful.” There’s a glow in his stomach, where there was sorrow. It’s a tilt of happiness and Erica is smiling at him. He smiles back, one of his real ones because it’s being drawn out of him by her. Derek hasn’t let go of her hands, and she presses her fingers against his for a few more minutes before she thanks him and scurries back to class.

Derek runs into Mrs. Argent on his way out of the school a few days later. He’s on his way to Panoptic when she stops him in the stairway to the entrance. She grabs his shoulder with her sharp, manicured claws, which are as red as her hair.

“Have you gotten McCall to give up his power yet?”

“No Ma’am,” he tells her. She sniffs, looks away from him, out at the students being sent off for the day.

“Be sure to get it from him sooner rather than later. We really have no use for a Gifted who doesn’t use his gift.” Derek wants to snort, because he has it on good authority that Allison Argent doesn’t like to use her power either.

Allison is on heroine track though. She has a lot to live up to in the Argent family. Derek backs out of Mrs. Argent’s grip and says, “of course. I’m sure he’ll tell me with a few more sessions.”

“Be sure that he does,” she says, and Derek turns so he doesn’t have to look at her solid face, even though her stoniness still ripples against his back.

 

****

“I don’t know about you dude, but Magneto still gives me a hard-on, even after he paralyzes Xavier.”

“One, please stop telling me what gets you horny, cause no,” Scott says. The book he’s reading is resting on his chest so he can look at Stiles properly. Scott always says he thinks he gets his point across better when there is not a barrier between them and he can look Stiles in the eye. It’s the same way he talks with everyone. “Two, I can’t believe you’re watching that trash. You know as well as I do that it promotes a divide between humans and The Gifted.”

“Pfft! You know as well as I do that it’s fiction!” Stiles bursts out. Scott scoffs. “Nothing is coming between me and Fassbender...also Jennifer Lawrence.” Scott looks like he wants to throw the book at him.

“It’s movies like that which make the humans afraid of us,” Scott hisses. Stiles deflates. Of course that’s why Scott’s upset. He grabs the remote and switches off the TV.

“Sorry dude. I know it’s been hard for you, and I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“No. It’s not your fault Stiles. Things just keep upsetting me really easy these days. Not even Lawrence can make it better.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you want to try again?” Stiles asks. Scott grimaces in response.

“I’m not ready. Maybe soon though.”

“You better get on that. They’re only going to send you to the counselor for so long before they decide you’re a lost cause.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Scott grumbles. He lifts his book from his chest, clearly miffed.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just…you know the stories about them throwing out the kids who don’t carry their parents genes.”

“I hate genetics,” Scott whines. It’s the only class that Scott and Stiles share, and is probably the hardest. Apparently all of The Gifted need to know how their power was passed down. Unluckily they didn’t get history together. Apparently, Scott doesn’t have it at all and Stiles has to wonder if it’s only because he got put into Hero Support classes.

“So, do you think you’ll open up to Mr. Hale?”

“How do you manage to make that sound so dirty?” Scott says through a shudder.

“I’ve got a talented tongue,” Stiles grins. Scott shoves him off the bed.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to look at Mr. Hale when I have you explaining in great detail the things you want to do to him?”

“I do the same thing over Lydia,” Stiles points out, climbing off the floor to join Scott back on the bed.

“Yeah, well, I never see her...except when Mr. Hale calls me to his office. She’s usually leaving,” Scott divulges.

“Interesting.” Stiles scratches at his chin, trying to make himself look more intelligent, and probably failing if the look Scott is giving him is any indication. “What do you think? Sexual escapades with Mr. Hale or emotionally damaged?”

Scott is giving him the ‘ _you idiot’_ look; doesn’t even bother to respond with words. He gets promptly shoved off the bed again. Mrs. McCall appears in the doorframe a few seconds later. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ve had to deal with enough injuries caused by idiocy today.”

Scott laughs. Melissa has a difficult job of trying to remain anonymous while she runs around the hospital. It’s tough to keep your secret identity when everyone wants to find out who is healing all the patients at Beacon Memorial. Melissa McCall is a sneaky little thing though, never gets caught. She’s even managed to make it to the hospital in Greenbrier when they’re understaffed.

“Stiles, you better get home and get your schoolwork done, since you’re obviously not going to get it done here.”

Stiles grumbles and whines, because seriously, he was going to do his homework. _After_ all the fun stuff. Stiles shakes his hands out as he stands, fully intending to leave, but Melissa gasps.

“Don’t you dare! Use the door like everybody else.”

“I was jus—”

“I know what you were _just_ doing, and I’m not going to be vacuuming up glitter for the next month. Door,” Melissa orders. “Now.”

She leaves no room for argument and Stiles slinks out of Scott’s bedroom dejectedly. It’s no fun having a superpower that no one wants you to use. Sure, he can teleport, but everyone glares at him afterward because they get covered in shiny speckles, and he’s been strictly forbidden from using his compulsion.

When he hits the doorstep and closes the door behind him he disappears in a flash of air and color. His backyard greets him and his mom projects a huge, flashing ‘ _THANK YOU’_ in his head. Stiles glances at the house to see her in the kitchen window, probably doing the dishes. She hates cleaning up his mess of porting just as much as Melissa does.

House rule says he’s only allowed to teleport when he’s outside of it. His other power gets him in trouble if he uses it against his parents. He’s exercised it enough that his dad brought home hecatolite as punishment and painted his room with it.

“Scott’s still not using his gift,” Stiles says as soon as he steps through the sliding glass door. His mom is wrist deep in soapy water, gives him a sad look and a sigh.

 

 ************

History of The Gifted is possibly Stiles’ favorite subject. Well, at least of the ones that do not involve practical use of his power. Every culture involved the superheroes, but were usually thought of as someone different, such as druids and witches, or originally the Gods. Not that there isn’t a God. Stiles sure as hell doesn’t know, but it’s interesting to think the Greeks and Romans believed that people like him were once the rulers of the Heavens or Hell.

They were once worshipped then persecuted, now they’re held in fine lines of political battles. Scott wasn’t wrong about X-Men being an allegory for their own lives.

Stiles likes learning about all these little nuances of his species. Erica Reyes sits across from him, black-leather gloves pulled into place and avoiding looking at almost everyone. They’re in pairs, trying to figure out which powers they have and separating them by sect and category.

“You’re a _Tele_ sect, which is usually paired with _Pathec_ or _Kinetic_ energies. _Porter’_ s have only recently become a more prominent power to emerge.” Erica says. Stiles quirks his lips in interest. What she’s come up with on him is quite impressive, especially when put with what he’s learned in genetics.

His _Tele_ energy definitely was passed down from his mom, whereas the _Porter_ is trickier to figure out unless he looks up his genealogy as well.

Erica is probably going to be disappointed with what he’s looked up on her. She is harder to find anything on. “Well, you’ve got an electric current running through your skin, which makes you pretty awesome. You’re probably like the great-great granddaughter of Zeus.”

Erica snorts. “Shut up. How did you get that from what it’s in the book?”

“It doesn’t actually say that, but I’m deducing because Zeus is a total badass who totes had like electric powers.”

“Lightning,” Erica corrects.

“Eh, same difference,” Stiles says with a wave of his hand. “It’s obviously an external power, though it can’t affect anyone unless they touch your skin. Do either of your parents have external powers?” he asks.

Erica is quiet a few beats, mouth a thin line before she says, “neither of my parents are superheroes.” Stiles eyes widen.

“No way! That’s rare,” Stiles says. “Are you one of those kids that was bitten by a radioactive bug or—”

Erica stops him with a laugh. “What am I? A character in a comic book?” Stiles gives her a once over.

“Probably.”

“I’m more of a D.C. girl myself,” Erica says through a grin. Stiles obviously needs to have a sit down with her, because dude!

“Have you accepted Batman as your Lord and Savior?” Stiles jokes.

*****************

 

Stiles blows into Mr. Hale’s office after the last bell, hoping the guy hasn’t left yet. He probably should have come after lunch, but he and Erica were having a debate on the costume design in comic books.

Derek looks a little taken aback. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders, which makes Stiles want to laugh because he’s got a man bag on his desk that he’s packing up.

“I admit, I was expecting the bag, maybe a pair of glasses, but not the leather jacket. It doesn’t really scream ‘guidance counselor’ to me.”

“It was a gift from my mom,” Mr. Hale tells him. Stiles would be embarrassed to admit that, but Mr. Hale looks nonchalant, unabashed. “I’m getting ready to leave. My office hours are eight to noon and one to three. If you need to talk, please come by tomorrow, Stiles.”

“Oh. We’re on a first name basis are we?” Stiles asks, moving his eyebrows up and down in what he hopes is an alluring manner. Mr. Hale looks nonplussed.

“I’m on a first name basis with everyone. I’m Derek, by the way.”

‘ _And I’m yours!’_ Stiles thinks, because dude is fucking hot. Derek looks startled for a moment but Stiles shrugs it off because Stiles has to speak to make people believe things.

Unless Derek can read minds. Stiles has a moment of panic before Derek asks, “What’s wrong?” which rules out the possibility of telepathy.

“I really need to talk,” Stiles says.

“Tomorrow. I’ve got prior engagements during after school hours,” Derek responds, zipping up his bag.

“Dude. No one cares about your girlfriend. This is about Scott.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Derek points out helpfully so Stiles doesn’t have to figure out who his competition is unless he has a boyfriend.

“This is about Scott,” Stiles says, derailing his own train of thought, because Christ he needs to stay focused. Derek looks up at him, seemingly interested. “He doesn’t want to use his powers because his dad up and abandoned him when he found out what he could do.”

“I figured as much,” Derek says. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Scott’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“He won’t. Scott doesn’t even talk to _me_ about it either, but I have an idea of how to trigger his gift.”

Derek narrows his eyes. He looks grumpy with his eyebrows drawn together, and the scowl, but perhaps that’s just his face. It’s a good face. Chiseled and a bit scruffy, which makes Stiles want to rub his own against it. Derek sways closer and for a moment Stiles thinks that Derek must want to play this game. Stiles doesn’t know how this works though.

There has never been someone that moved into his space like the way Derek is. He moves around his desk, putting a foot of space between them. Stiles’ stomach tugs when he notices he matches Derek for height. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and Derek’s eyes track the movement.

Stiles is sure he shivers. He wants to kiss Derek. The skin of his cheeks is heating up from arousal, which came on fast. Stiles brings his hands up to rub at them in embarrassment; he can feel them turning red. Derek blinks, shakes his head as if clearing it, and under his scruff Stiles can see the telltale blush of his own.

“Shit,” Derek says, taking a step backward. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was doing.”

Stiles’ stomach clenches painfully, because of course whatever Derek was doing wasn’t intentional. “Me either,” Stiles says, swallowing down his guilt because he was definitely thinking of things he shouldn’t.

Derek is giving him a funny look. Questioning and like he’s trying to figure out what just happened. As if Stiles had tricked him into moving closer, as if he has the power to make people do whatever he wants. Stiles’ gift doesn’t really work like that.

“How do we convince Scott to use his power?” Derek asks and Stiles perks back up because that’s why he’s here.

 

Stiles leaves a little while later, and Derek wants to collapse in his chair. The teen is an absolute burn on his emotions. They were going haywire and back and forth the entire time he was inside the office. As soon as he stepped outside, Derek was free.

Derek likes girls, or women. At least he thinks he does. He did before he came fully into his powers. Now he doesn’t know what he likes, except being holed up alone, where he doesn’t have to deal with feelings. It’s a secret that he’s stone-faced because in the presence of others he begins to reflect their moods. 

Stiles is a piece of work. Derek usually doesn’t have that kind of back and forth slide between feelings unless he’s in a crowd. For a moment he had thought he was going to kiss the kid.

Derek supposes he could like Stiles, except Derek doesn’t. He knows how to feel. He feels emotions all the time and they burn him up inside, but they’re not his own. Derek is almost positive that Stiles was projecting so much that it made Derek come closer. 

There’s no other explanation. 

At least he might be able to work with Scott now. Stiles had given him a tip and Derek’s not sure what to do about it yet, because he doesn’t own any pets. Maybe he can stop at a pet store or something on the way to school in the morning. There’s no time to think about it right now though. Derek’s already late for his meeting at Panoptic. 

Derek goes through his ritual of leaving the school and making his way to the prison, thankfully not running into anyone else and being held up longer. 

Luxury Suites and Lofts sits in Greenbrier. A hotel and home to the wealthy as they do their business in Greenbrier. It’s the neighboring city to Beacon Hills, and ironic because nothing is green in the city, except perhaps paint and wallpaper. All iron and steel and typical metropolis misgivings and crime. It’s still better than Los Angeles though. It’s also, conveniently where criminals are kept.

Perhaps it’s safer to keep villains in a more isolated area.

Derek is checking into Luxury, like he does every other day at the front desk. The receptionist gives him a funny look and says, “I don’t know why you don’t just rent one of the lofts. It’s got to be cheaper than getting a hotel room every few days.”

Derek gives her a tight smile. “It’s not on my dime. I’m here for my job.” Derek can see her curiosity in shades of sand warmed by the desert sun.

Her interest is palpable, before she says, “oh, and what’s that?” She’s got that flirty edge to her voice, as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Or maybe Derek is projecting from earlier. 

“I’m not really allowed to discuss business with anyone that’s not a part of the company.” Derek tells her. She looks disappointed as she slides over his keycard, one of the special ones for _Suite A_. Derek thanks her and turns towards the elevator at a brisk pace.

The elevator is mirrors and oak, and a soft lighting that belies the bite of the city. Derek inserts his card into the slot under _floor numbers_. The doors slide shut and he glimpses at his reflection, wonders what Stiles saw that made him taste of burgundy wine and the heady slope of want. 

Derek turns away when the elevator dings and opens to reveal linoleum floor and stone walls webbed with hecatolite. Stilinski is standing right in front of him. 

“Derek! Didn’t think you were going to make it in time.”

“Sorry I’m late. I got held up by a student,” Derek tells him. “Who are we questioning today?”

“You? No one.” Stilinski says and Derek’s stomach drops. Losing his job a month in would be bad, except The Gifted can’t really get fired unless they ruin everything. Stilinski continues on though, as if Derek isn’t having an internal monologue. 

“Can you happen to focus your power on specific people?” Stilinski asks. 

“It’s hard. I can usually only do it in a small group or if I have a connection to the person. Like when I’m at home, I usually focus on my mom because her feelings are the least overwhelming.”

“Hmm…I don’t know how much help you’ll be, but we’ve got a missing girl on ground level. We were going to send you out with an Argent to retrieve her. You might be able to pick her out of a crowd.”

“No offense sir, but why send me instead of a telepath? I’m not experienced in field work. Shouldn’t I start on something small?” 

“You’ll never learn unless you get practical experience,” Stilinski says patting his shoulder. “Besides, isn’t that what Beacon Prep was for? Preparing you and your powers for the outside world.”

Derek’s mouth is thin when he says, “my gift was a bit of a joke at the school.” Stilinski squeezes his arm, Derek can see a familiar looking man coming up to them from the other end of the Panoptic entrance. He must have just left the hive underneath. Derek eyes the holster on his hip. He doesn’t look like anyone that Derek’s seen on guard. 

“No one should treat anyone as if their power is a joke. Everything is useful,” Stilinski says. “Nobody should have given you any grief...especially with what you had to deal with last year.”

He feels pity wafting off of Stilinski and Derek wants to pull away from his touch. He hates that emotion.

A man walking towards them, finally stops. “Ah. Mr. Hale, I take it? Was wondering when you’d show up, but my daughter informed me you were with Stilinski’s son.” 

“Uh…” Derek doesn’t know what to say. Has no idea what this guy is talking about. 

Stilinski perks up in interest. “You were with Stiles?”

“Stiles is your son?” Derek yelps, can’t help it because they’d been leaning into each other’s space less than an hour ago; Derek’s gaze locked on Stiles’ lips. 

Stilinski nods. “He hasn’t been causing any trouble has he?” 

“No sir,” Derek says, avoiding the Stilinski’s gaze, looks at the other man instead. “Wait. Who’s your daughter?” Derek asks.

“Allison Argent,” he answers. “You won’t have met her.” Derek hasn’t, not really, but he knows what she looks like from the trial.

So this man is Argent, the Silver Soldier himself. It’s no wonder he looks familiar. “Chris,” he says, reaching out to shake Derek’s hand. “We ready to go then?”

“I guess so,” Derek dares to agree. He really doesn’t know how much help he’ll be. 

The receptionist eyes them when they make it back topside, and Chris gives her a smile that crinkles his eyes. 

Argent is thoughtful while they patrol. Doesn’t ask much of Derek, except for him to push his power outward; feel for the missing girl. “We’ve got a telepath working the other end of town, but after Stilinski told me what you could do, I thought it’d be wise to utilize you as much as we could.”

“Happy to help,” Derek says, tone neutral, face flat. Chris gives him a look, but doesn’t comment. 

They find the girl in the old abandoned bank. Pure luck that they hadn’t shoved her in the vault filled with hecatolite, but instead in a janitor’s closet where Derek can sense her terror.

 She’s dirty and crying and it makes Derek collapse to his knees. He can’t tell if she’s crying from fear or relief, but it’s probably both. It makes tears well up in his own eyes. Chris has to free her from her bonds by himself, because she’s only about six. That kind of emotional turmoil from someone so young almost cripples him. 

Chris sends him home afterward. Tells him good job, and says, "we should grab a beer sometime.

 

 ******************

 

Derek forgets all about what he’s supposed to be doing for Scott until he’s already in his first session the next day, which is before the first bell. He’s drained and doesn’t really want to deal with anyone, but he’d never turn Erica away, and she hates skipping out on class. She tells him how she made a friend and he’s happy for her. 

Or at least he thinks he is. Perhaps he’s just feeling her happiness, which is a sunny yellow that sparks behind his eyes. Erica asks him if she can come by later, during her free period; he agrees. 

Vernon Boyd comes by later in the morning and tells him he hates eating alone every day.

Derek doesn’t think he’s being polite when he says, “I think it would help if you didn’t use your gift. People would want to sit with you if they knew you were there.” He genuinely wants to help Boyd though. 

“I know that,” Boyd answers with a sheepish grin. 

Derek sees him later that day with a curly haired boy, the one who can walk through walls. They’re at the same table and they seem to be getting along fine. Boyd has a better temperament hanging around him anyway.

Lydia marches into his office right after lunch, right on the dot as usual. She flips open a couple books, pulls out a notebook and pen, uncaps a new color of polish. Derek notices the glaze matches not only her outfit, but the rusty red of her determination. 

Lydia paints as she puzzles through her reading for a few minutes. Derek can get flashes of her understanding. It makes him kind of wish he was mind reader. His office door bursts open to reveal Stiles and Erica who are brimming with cheerfulness. 

Lydia snaps her head in their direction. “Excuse you. There’s already a session taking place.”

Stiles looks apologetic, starts backing out even though Derek can feel a peak in his excitement. Erica is looking at all of Lydia’s work scattered across Derek’s desk. “Uh this doesn’t really look like a _real_ session.”

Lydia considers her for a moment, annoyance clear, but she huffs. “Fine, just keep it down. I have to get these assignments done so I can graduate early.”

Stiles is regarding Lydia thoughtfully, a sparkle of interest lighting Derek up on the inside. It makes Derek see Lydia in a different way, which he never really seen her in any particular way, except powerful and perhaps a bit evil.  

They promise to keep it down, and seat themselves on the carpeted floor next to his desk. They chatter about Catwoman and Lydia is narrowing her eyes at them. She’s reading as angry in her expression, but she’s amusing Derek. Without reading her mind, Derek can tell she likes Stiles and Erica’s conversation. 

She finishes her nails and chastises them for talking too loud, but she does it with a smile around her lips. Stiles makes pink flash behind Derek’s eyes, and it should drain him more. Make him want to sleep for a week after last night’s affair, but instead it makes him content. 

Derek closes his eyes against it, basks in its warmth. 

“So where’s the pet you brought?” Stiles asks, breaking the moment. 

“I forgot,” Derek admits. Stiles gives him a put upon sigh. Derek shrugs. “You made me late to saving a little girl last night, so it kind of got pushed to the back burner.”

Lydia smirks. “ _He_ made you late? Please tell me what you two were up to?”

Stiles tastes like bashfulness and guilt and smarmy pride all wrapped into one. “I would never! I’m a mere child and a gentleman!”

Erica laughs, brown eyes sparkling. “Wow. What a lie. You should hear the things he says about you,” she says gesturing to Lydia. “And also, you’re seventeen. Hardly a child.”

Lydia appears curious. Stiles is gaping at Erica, betrayal written all over his face and feelings. “I can’t believe you told her that! You traitorous, wayward woman!”

Erica chortles and Derek gets a staccato beat of exuberance against his brow. It’s elating and makes him smile wide. Stiles flicks his eyes to him, and Derek gets an unsettling sort of hurt beneath his bones. Stiles looks wounded but his emotions are definitely of wonder. “What?” Derek asks.

Stiles just stares at him, definitely admiring, before he says, “nothing...nothing at all.” 

Lydia and Erica are looking between them, Derek can see them out of his periphery, even if he is solely looking at Stiles. His eyes are wide and amber, eyelashes long. His lips are parted and he’s giving off that warm glow that makes Derek content right beneath his breastbone. 

There’s a sharp knock on the door that breaks the moment, and Boyd comes in with the curly-haired boy in tow.

“Uh...I didn’t realize this is where the party was at,” Boyd says.

They probably look like deer caught in headlights and Derek is the worst guidance counselor ever. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be harboring a bunch of heroes during break time. 

“This is Isaac,” Boyd says, gesturing to the teenager at his side. 

****

 

Stiles isn’t sure, but he thinks he and Derek had a moment. Like a real moment, and not some weird hazy fog where they were about to kiss without even consenting to it in the first place. 

Lydia Martin was there, and Stiles is trying to reconcile with the fact that she is definitely taken. Derek on the other hand might not be taken, but he is definitely out of Beacon Prep and probably off limits because he’s the counselor. Even if Stiles’ dick definitely recognizes him as a sexy specimen of society. 

He wants to stay after the bell’s ring to ask him about Scott, but Boyd is lingering so he figures he should go. Boyd probably has a real session.

“I really hope you two aren’t going to interrupt my perfectly pristine study hour every day,” Lydia says as they leave the room. 

Stiles snorts. “Are you kidding me? There is no way you are holding that room hostage just so you can kill Derek with the fumes from you fingernail polish.”

Lydia cuts him a look, but it’s playful. “That would be a tragedy.”

“So am I imagining things if I point out that me and Derek were totally holding hands in our heads?” Stiles asks.

“I’d say if it was in your head then it was definitely imaginary,” Lydia points out.

Stiles sighs and Erica takes sympathy on him. “You guys were definitely having a moment though. It was that kind of eye contact that you see in the movies.”

“I knew it! I’m so awesome! Dudes find me attractive,” Stiles crows.

“Dude,” Lydia corrects. “Derek, as far as I know, only counts as one.”

“Are you guys talking about Mr. Hale?” a dark-haired girl asks, coming out of the headmistress’ office. She has a stack of papers in her arms and a deep dimple in her cheek, though her smile is small. 

Lydia purses her lips in dismay. “Stiles is trying to get into his pants.”

Stiles gapes at her. “I didn’t even know you knew my name.”

“I’m class president. Of course I know your name,” Lydia says with a flick of her strawberry-blonde curls as she turns to the dark-haired girl. “They interrupted my study hour, Allison.”

Allison is giving Stiles a pitying look, which is weird, but she holds out her hand. “I’m Allison. I think you’re actually going to be in one of my sections next semester. You’re a teleporter, right?” 

“Uh yeah...how did you know that?” Stiles questions. 

“My mom is the headmistress. It’s kinda hard to miss when she points out the student who ruined her suit.”

“Yeahhh. That was me,” Stiles says. “Guilty.” Allison grins, but it’s fleeting. 

“I was actually wondering if you could introduce me to your friend.”

“Scott?” he asks.

“Yes. I’d really like to talk to him about his gift. I don’t really like using mine either, but he should really try to exercise it occasionally. I’d like to help him,” Allison says and Stiles beams. 

**************

Stiles does introduce them. After school by the lava moat and Scott looks at her like she’s hung the moon. Already.

Stiles waves goodbye to them as they smile shyly at each other, dimples deep and darling and Stiles kind of wants to press them together at the seams. They look like the perfect fit. 

“Come on Stiles,” Erica says, gloved fingers touching his elbow. 

“They will do great things,” Stiles says, studying them a moment. “I’m already picturing their perfect, dark haired hero children.”

 “Dork,” Erica giggles.

They make it back to his house slowly because Stiles doesn’t know how to teleport people. He tried to do it to Scott once, who’d just gotten green in the face and then laid on the sidewalk for half an hour while his queasiness passed. 

Stiles promised Erica videogames and his mom’s peach cobbler from last night’s dessert. Erica’s got a thing for both. He’s not expecting his mom to be home, or her to question them.

She keeps projecting images of him and Erica holding hands and kissing into his head. A question mark after until he finally says, “Oh my God! Mom! Stop it. We are just friends.”

“Even so. Keep the door open,” she says as they run upstairs. 

“Sorry, my mom’s a little weird,” Stiles says as he takes a gulp of his coke.

Erica laughs. “She just doesn’t want her precious son impregnating me.” 

Stiles spits his soda everywhere. Some of it dribbles down the front of his T-shirt, which proclaims him a _StudMuffin._ “Thanks for that.”

“Just doing my civic duty of helping boys picture me naked.”

“I’m sure you look perfect both in and out of your clothes.”

They collapse on the floor and proceed to scare themselves silly over Silent Hill for several hours before Erica decides she better head home. 

“You and Derek are definitely my favorite,” she tells him before she leaves, skipping down the sidewalk. She only lives a few blocks away and anyone that comes after her will be in for a nasty surprise.

 

Greenberg is in Derek’s office when he gets there Monday morning. She’s got her dark hair spilling around her shoulders, and her porcelain skin is smooth. She’s dismayed. The line of her back is taut and her mouth thin. 

“You okay Greenberg?” he asks walking around her to get to his side of the desk.

“Never better,” she says, but she gives off a tinge of dull blue, a muted melancholy under the brittle brick red of her anger.

It makes Derek uncomfortable in his own skin, makes him hunch in himself. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks because he doesn’t believe her when she says everything is alright. 

She’s quiet a moment and then he senses her derailing the conversation in her head. She doesn’t want to tell him what’s really on her mind, so she’s going to try and lead him in a different direction.

“Do you even know my name?”

“Greenberg,” Derek answers immediately. 

“No. My real name,” she says in agitation. 

Derek has no clue. He sits in silence because he didn’t even bother to look her up. Just thought she liked to come here to vent. She never asked for his advice, not like he’d be able to give her any. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

“That’s just great,” Greenberg says, and he gets a dark pool of frustration behind his eyes. It makes him clench at his desk, tip forward until he’s leaning his weight against it because he’s getting angry himself. “It’s not as if I expected anyone to know it. It’s not like we’re friends,” she bites out and Derek flinches away from her fuming anger like it’s a slap. She grabs her bag and sweeps out of the room in under three seconds, and Derek collapses on the floor, completely misses his chair.

Anger hurts. Makes him hate the world and burns him from the inside. Derek lays there, sweating through his button-down shirt and slacks trying to calm his headache and the red behind his eyes. It takes minutes, too long because the door opens. His next visitor arrived, seeing him in such an awful state. He’d probably feel embarrassed if he felt his own emotions. 

“Derek?” a voice questions, and when he takes a step forward he knows exactly who it is. It’s definitely Stiles. “Oh my God. Dude! What happened?” Stiles asks when he sees him sprawled on the floor. “Were you attacked?”

“No!” Derek hurries to answer. Stiles crouches on the floor, extending his hand to Derek. The worry pooling off Stiles and into Derek is swaying his mood into a different direction too quick and it’s making him sick. “Just couldn’t block her out. She’s got a strong mind.”

Stiles surveys him a moment, sitting down by Derek’s head before he says, “that definitely sounds like an attack.”

“No. She didn’t do anything. It’s just my gift, and I really need you to calm down before I throw up all over you.”

Stiles makes a face, almost drops Derek’s hand in disgust. “Wait a minute. What’s your gift?”

“Erica didn’t tell you?” Derek asks, voice croaky. Stiles shakes his head. “I’m an Empath. I can feel all your emotions.”

Derek is suddenly pulsing with embarrassment, a quick beat of burgundy wine want flashing at him underneath. “Please, rein it in?” Derek whines, dropping his head into Stiles’ lap.

“Oh my God. You can feel that?” Stiles asks and arousal shoots down Derek’s spine, settles in his groin. It makes Derek whine.

"You need to stop.”

“I can’t!” Stiles gripes. “I can’t just shut off my emotions! And dude your head is in my lap. Of course I’m going to get a boner.”

Derek should probably move his head, but heat is pooling in his stomach and he adjusts his grip on Stiles hand, so their fingers are interlaced. The pads of his fingers drag against the skin of Stiles’ knuckles and he groans, shifting and Derek feels Stiles’ hard dick under his head. Derek shifts, rubs the side of his face against the denim, sharp edge of the zipper digging into his temple.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles sighs. “Yeah. Don’t stop that.” There’s a moan beneath his words and it’s making Derek so horny. He hasn’t been this horny since last year. He slips his other hand down his stomach, right into his slacks and palms his dick.

“Oh God. I need it,” Derek says, and he twists his body, so he can put his mouth around the line of Stiles’ cock. It’s so hard, pushing out the material and Stiles whines, brings a hand up to push Derek’s face down more, grinding right into where Derek’s teething at his dick. 

It’s a haze of red heat and pleasure. He’s drooling onto the denim, soaking it in his saliva, and Stiles is just humping and bumping into it. Derek’s flexing his hips into his hand, dick hard and leaking, his arousal mixing with Stiles’. 

Everything is too sharp and shaky and his balls feel heavy. Stiles grips his hair, tugs at it. “Fuck. I’m gonna—shit!”

Derek falls over the edge, shoots his load in his pants, and then he tumbles into a blissed out haze. Stiles is stroking his hair, and Derek rubs his face against the wet denim covering the kid’s dick and he’s so fucked. 

Derek is going to get killed by the warden of Panoptic.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooo sorry this took so long. Being a full time student and working in between has killed my productivity in writing.

 

 

 

Stiles doesn’t know what just happened but he’s got sticky come in his underwear, and Derek just mouthed at his dick while they laid on the floor of his office. 

It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I think I’m in love,” Stiles says carding his fingers through dark strands of hair. Derek sort of mewls up at him. He’s all lazy, heavy heat in Stiles’ lap and Stiles can’t believe he just had his first sexual experience with him. “God. I can’t wait to have sex with you.”

Derek pulls away, retracts his hand from his pants. It’s covered in his spunk and Stiles leans forward, grabbing Derek’s wrist. Cooling come is all over his hand and Stiles licks at it, across the wide expanse of Derek’s palm. Derek looks entranced, which is good because the taste is awful. It’s disgusting. As soon as he thinks it, Derek is shoving him away.

“Stop. Get away from me.” 

“What the fuck, dude?” Stiles asks, completely taken aback. They just had orgasms. They should be snuggling, not asking for space. Stiles is baffled

“Get out of my office,” Derek orders and Stiles flinches.

“Where am I supposed to go? In case you haven’t noticed, your spit and my come are soaking the front of my pants,” Stiles says. He’s starting to get angry.

“Not my problem,” Derek tells him, face blank. 

Stiles can’t even bring himself to push himself off the floor and walk out of the room like a normal person. There’s a snap in the air like a rubber band, color all around him, and then he’s sitting in the glittery grass behind his house. The tears in his eyes make everything blur into circles of colorful confusion.

**************** 

 

Stiles doesn’t go back to school that day. Fuck that. He just got kicked out by the first person that did something sexual with him. 

Tossed to the curb like garbage. 

Instead he peels off his sticky jeans and underwear, tosses them in the wash to avoid awkward questions, then jumps in the shower. He doesn’t stay in long, because he washed this morning. Some of the come is starting to crust, matting down his pubes, so he scrubs at his junk with some soap, rinses, and shuts off the water. It’s all mechanical and he’s done in under a minute. Drying off and dressing in sweats is quick and then he face plants onto his bed to be pathetic. 

He can’t believe he told Derek that he loved him. Everything is so fucked now. He can’t even play it off like it didn’t mean anything to him.

“I’m such a child,” he tells his pillow.

 ***********

 

It’s his mom that wakes him up later. The sun is shining dark through his window, getting ready to set and his mom is pushing his hair back from his forehead. 

“Hey baby. Are you sick?” she asks.

“I’m not a baby, mom,” Stiles says, and he turns his face away from her, towards the wall.

“Honey, are you alright?” she asks. “There was a message on the machine that said you didn’t show up for school today.”

“Yup. I’m so sick. I might be dying,” Stiles pouts. He knows he sounds like he’s about ten.

“What happened Stiles?” His mom questions. “You sound upset.”

“It’s just—” he starts, but he knows he can’t tell her. Stiles had mutual orgasms with the school counselor, which is most definitely frowned upon, but then the guy kicked him out afterward. “It’s nothing,” he lies, using his ability to push it out so she’ll believe it.

“Stiles, don’t lie to me,” she whispers, and for a moment he can’t believe he forgot about the hecatolite. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I can’t tell you...but can you lay with me for a little bit?” he asks.

“Of course baby,” she says, pressing a hand against his shoulder as she climbs onto his bed with him, snuggling against his back. She wraps her arms around his middle and Stiles just wants to cry. He shakes in her arms as he fights off tears and she shushes him, petting at his hair. “You know you can always tell me anything. I would never judge you Stiles.”

He doesn’t answer, just lets her hold him, because you can never be too old for comfort. 

 

 

Stiles doesn’t show up to genetics that day, which is weird because Scott definitely entered the building with him that morning. He manages to get through the class, not that Stiles is much help as a partner. Best friend that he is, Stiles understands genetics less than Scott. It’s really a miracle that either of them are averaging a C in the class.

Scott gets paired with Danny and the pale girl that sprays scents out of her eyes. Scott seen her in the hallway yesterday spraying someone down and screeching out, “it’s called basic hygiene!” 

It’s an unusual gift, but Scott sees how it can be useful, and also embarrassing for the person on the receiving end. She’s pretty quiet and Scott doesn’t really know who she is, but she seems to click with scientific material. She’s scribbling something in her notebook and nods when Danny asks if he’s doing it right.

Scott laughs at Danny. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. Don’t you have the gift of luck?”

Danny grins and says, “Just because my way is pretty much paved, doesn’t mean I should just rely on it. I’d like to actually try in life, instead of skip my way through it happily.” 

He has a point and Scott kind of admires him for being such an upstanding guy. They work together and Scott walks to the lunch room with him after class. “Do you want to sit with us?” Danny asks, and he gestures to a table filled with hero track kids. 

Scott spots Lydia Martin’s shock of red hair first, and the shifter at her side that tried to bully him and Stiles the first day. Scott isn’t sure at first. He’s been delegated to sitting with sidekicks...well, actually Stiles and him decided to sit by themselves, gaining Erica as a part of their group a few weeks later.

He’s about to say no, go and take his spot next to Erica, when he spots Allison Argent at the table and she waves him over. Scott turns his head, looks over at his usual table, and Erica is sitting with two other hero track kids. The table behind her is housing the dark haired girl that always sits at the back of his sidekick classes. She’s sitting alone, no food in front of her, just watching everyone. 

Erica and her other friends look good though, so Scott shrugs and says, “Sure.” Danny smiles and they make their way across the room to join his group of friends. Scott’s surprised when Danny sits next to the shifter, pats him on the shoulder, and says, “This is Scott.”

“A sidekick,” Jackson says, clearly unimpressed. 

“Ignore him. He was clearly raised by wolves,” Danny tells him and Jackson hisses at him. Scott wonders if he’s a large cat, because he’s only ever seen his claws, as he takes a seat next to Allison. She scoots down the bench a bit to give him room, smiles sweetly at him, which makes his stomach flip-flop. “This is Jackson,” Danny continues. He points at a couple of other people, introducing them, but Scott is only partially listening. “I’m sure you know Lydia.”

Lydia flicks her eyes up at him, smiles tightly, and then looks back down at her phone, purses her lips for what’s clearly a selfie. “That’s Allison beside you. You probably haven’t seen her around. She’s very good at keeping to the shadows.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “Scott and I have met. Danny and everyone else thinks it’s funny to have our powers be the butt of every joke.”

“You never told me what your power is,” Scott says to her, and Allison dimples at him, deeply. 

“She doesn’t like to talk about her power,” Lydia says, not looking up from her phone. “Which is a step up from you, considering no one even knows if _you_ have one.” Scott scowls, wonders why Stiles loves this girl again.

“Lydia’s not trying to sound mean,” Allison defends, though she gives Lydia a narrow look. 

“Of course not,” Lydia says, turning her chin so her face is at an angle, and then she snaps another photo. She regards Scott curiously after she sets down her phone. “I just hate to be the bearer of bad news, and eventually it will be me that the headmistress comes to seeking your eviction from Beacon Prep.”

“So she needs your permission?” Scott asks, because it seems backwards to have a student making decisions.

“Not exactly, but as Student Body President, she’s going to want my backup in your dismissal,” Lydia explains. “I mean, they haven’t had to remove a student since 1987. It’s usually frowned upon to turn our backs on one of our own, but you wouldn’t know that. You’re not even in your first semester of _History of The Gifted_.”

Scott frowns at her, because it should be common knowledge. It’s the reason the villainous end up with a life sentence in Panoptic. 

“Hm,” Lydia says, eying him critically. “Then again, maybe you do.” Scott wonders for a moment if she’s also a telepath, in addition to her supersonic scream, but he disregards it when she continues with, “it does explain why the community helped you and your mom so much after your abandonment.”

“Lydia,” Allison chastises. Scott moves his eyes to her, and she looks alarmed at Lydia’s frankness. He watches her shake her head once Lydia looks in her direction. 

It might have been a mistake to sit with the Hero track, Scott thinks, slouching a bit in his seat. Everyone’s quiet, not really eating, and Scott’s sure it’s his presence that is making everyone shifty. 

Scott breaks the silence with, “just because the headmistress comes to you, doesn’t mean you have to approve of my dismissal, do you?” 

Lydia turns her sharp eyes away from her tray to give him a once-over. She doesn’t seem satisfied with what she is looking at, but judging by her clothing Lydia has high standards. “I suppose I wouldn’t have to, if you give me a reason to think you’re valuable.” Her eyes flick to Allison and Scott wishes that girls weren’t so difficult to figure out. 

A hand slides across his knee, squeezes the meat of his leg, and Scott nearly jumps out of his skin. He whips his head around to see Allison guiltily looking anywhere but at him. Her hand stays on his leg for the entirety of lunch and conversation picks back up with Lydia’s backhanded approval.

 

****************

Scott is entirely too worried about Stiles when he doesn’t see him at all that day. Not that Stiles can’t take care of himself, especially since he’s able bodied and can disappear within a hairsbreadth of a second. Stiles doesn’t like missing school, though. Wanted to be at Beacon Prep more than anything, even if he doesn’t always do his homework the way teachers want. 

Scott heard Coach Finstock, the man in charge of _Save the Citizen_ and whatever other practical exercises they do, complaining that Stiles was turning in papers on female anatomy and circumcision. Scott’s sure that Stiles could pull those papers off in a different class, but Finstock is a ball beater and mostly teaches the physical aspect of being a part of The Gifted and of course Econ. 

When Scott slips out of his last period after the bell, he makes his way to the front of the school. Stiles and he always leave the building together, even if Scott had walked Allison home last week, while Stiles hung out with Erica. 

Stiles isn’t at the doors waiting for him like he normally is. Not that Scott expected him to be after he wasn’t even in class earlier. Mr. Hale blows past him and down the steps, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere. Scott wasn’t even called to his office today. 

It’s weird, because it’s the first time Scott hasn’t been called to Mr. Hale’s office. 

Someone grabs Scott’s shoulder and he turns, startled, only to see Allison giving him a sly smile. He doesn’t even know how she got behind him without him noticing her, unless she has been standing in the shadows, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to scare him. 

“Hey,” Scott says. 

“You waiting for me?” Allison asks and Scott almost doesn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“I was actually waiting for Stiles.”

She frowns and asks, “Stilinski?” Scott nods. “He hasn’t been here all day. Didn’t show up to any of his classes,” Allison tells him. 

“How do you know that?” Scott questions, as he steps out into the sunshine, leaving the building. Allison follows him.

“I’m an office aid. Stiles was absent, and one of the sidekicks was tardy today. I mean---Hero Support,” she corrects. Allison seems apologetic. She doesn’t look comfortable that there is clearly a line drawn between the Hero and Support track. It’s not like it’s made secret. All of Scott’s classes, except genetics, are in what is fondly called the Dungeon. He makes his way around the Underdome in a circular fashion every day. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I mind. Honestly, it’s not that bad being Hero Support,” Scott tells her.

“Really?” she asks, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Scott asks. Allison nods. “I think it would be easier if I was normal. You know, just an average person.” Allison’s eyebrows knit together and Scott’s mouth goes thin, like it always does when he’s about to bring up his father. “If I were normal, my dad wouldn’t have left and my mom wouldn’t be so sad all the time.”

Scott avoids her eyes, tugs on the strap of his backpack, hitching it higher onto his shoulder, and Allison studies him with a soft frown.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Allison asks.

Scott considers her question, is almost afraid to know something about her. She is already intimidating to be around, which might possibly be because she’s interested in him. “Yeah,” he says. “Tell me.”

“Life doesn’t work like that. Your dad didn’t leave because of you. He left because of him.” Her voice is hard when she speaks to him. Not angry, but definitely commanding him to listen to her tone. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s him who has the problem, and if he was willing to leave that quickly, it tells me that something was already broken.”

Scott’s dumbstruck. The things coming out of her mouth is what Mr. Hale should have been telling him during their sessions together. He wonders if he would have believed the counselor though. Derek just doesn’t seem like the type of person to make others feel better. 

“Don’t ever let someone make you think you’re less than you are,” Allison says, and she reaches out, clasps his hand in hers. Her palm is warm and soft and Scott’s stomach flips. He looks up at her face and she’s grinning at him again. Perpetual, sweet smile across her mouth that makes him want to howl at the moon, which is weird. 

“You’re really beautiful,” Scott tells her. Seemingly embarrassed, her gaze shifts away from him as her cheeks go pink. Surprisingly, she leans forward to give him a peck on the cheek. Scott practically swoons.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I have to get going.” Her eyes sparkle at him and she steps away, letting go of his hand to wave, then she’s jogging to the side of the school. He loses track of her when she steps into the dark shadow of the building, where the sun is pushing blackness right out of the brick. 

Scott presses a hand to his cheek where Allison kissed him and wonders if he could get away with asking her out tomorrow. He puts it on the backburner, because he needs to go to Stiles. He needs to tell him about Allison and ask him why he wasn’t in school today. The bus back to Beacon Hills is still loading, so he makes his way over to it and hops on. 

Stiles’ house is mostly dark when he gets there. The sun is setting in the front yard, but he can see the light in Stiles’ bedroom window. He knocks, even though he’s practically family. His mom raised him right, however, and told him it was never polite to invite himself in. Mrs. Stilinski answers the door in sweatpants and a tank top, looking ready for bed. There’s a red stain on her shirt though and a spoon covered in red sauce in her hand, which isn’t a good sign. 

“Scott! Thank God, come on in,” she says hurrying him inside. “Stiles is upstairs. I’m trying to coax him down with the promise of his favorite.”

“What happened?” he asks, suddenly worried. He thought maybe he just went home sick, but this is clearly worse. Stiles only holes up in his room when something is really wrong, like when his mom ended up in a human hospital and Scott’s mom had been half a world away, unable to help heal her at a moment’s notice. Claudia had been badly hurt during a battle and Scott’s own mom had been on a much needed vacation; it didn’t last long. 

Scott runs up the stairs as Mrs. Stilinski makes her way back into the kitchen. Stiles looks like a heap of blankets in the middle of his bed, the covers are over his head as Scott makes his way over, toeing off his shoes before his knees hit the mattress. 

“Hey dude,” Scott starts, and he nudges Stiles over, lifting the covers to crawl in with his best friend. “Where were you today? I was worried about you.” Scott pushes the blanket down a bit so he can see Stiles’ face. 

“Didn’t feel like going,” Stiles croaks. He looks bad, with red rimmed, swollen eyes from crying, along with a raw nose.

“What happened?” Scott asks.

“I did something bad. I mean-- I didn’t think it was bad at the time, because I was horny, but I was definitely wrong to do it.”

“What did you do?”

Stiles sniffles, inspects the frayed edge of his blue coverlet before he says, “I think I raped Derek Hale.”

“What?!” Scott yells.

“Shh,” Stiles warns, lifting his head to look at the door. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. “I don’t even know if I actually did because we didn’t have sex, but—”

“Did you use your power on him?” Scott asks, and he’s so afraid that Stiles is going to say yes. If anyone finds out, he’ll be in so much trouble. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him to make me come, he just did.” Stiles is trying to keep quiet while he talks. It must be a hard task, but he’s somehow managing. 

“He did what?” Scott wonders. “Actually, you know what? I don’t want to know.” 

“Scott,” Stiles whines. “I don’t think he wanted it. I mean, I didn’t make him, but he kicked me out right after.”

“Maybe he did want it,” Scott says, trying to mollify him. He doesn’t see in what world this could be right though. “But maybe he was afraid of getting caught. You do realize he’s the counselor, right? A terrible counselor, but you guys were on school property.”

“Quit trying to make me feel better about what I did,” Stiles says. “This is exactly why my room was painted with hecatolite. They knew I couldn’t help myself.”

“Stop,” Scott orders. “You aren’t a bad person. You would never intentionally take advantage of someone like that. You were both caught up in the moment.” Scott doesn’t know the details, but he knows Stiles, and though he may be obnoxious and certainly a dick when the moment calls for it, but he’s not capable of rape. 

“I mean, I don’t approve, because the dude is supposed to be looking out for us, but look at my abuela. She fell in love with one of her teachers at Beacon Prep. Granted, they didn’t do anything until after she had graduated, but they’re still married.”

“I didn’t know about that,” Stiles says.

“You wouldn’t,” Scott laughs. “My abuela is a classy woman. She doesn’t gossip about her love life.”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you,” Stiles says with a shake of his head. “Who would’ve thought my first sexual experience was going to be nudged into an area where I can’t figure out if it was consensual or not.”

Scott wraps an arm around his shoulder. “I thought I was coming over here to laugh at your failure of being immune to human sickness.”

Stiles pushes a hand into Scott’s face and shoves him. “Shut up, dork. Looking at our history, only one of us has had that problem.” 

Scott shrugs. “I thought we were finally going to be equals.”

 “We are equals,” Stiles frowns. 

“Not according to my classes, which proclaim me hero support,” Scott points out.

“You’re better than that though. I’m not half the hero you’d ever be. I’ve never used my powers for anyone but myself,” Stiles tells him.

Scott goes quiet, just presses his hand to Stiles in whatever comfort the bro code can offer. He doesn’t know how to tell Stiles about Allison’s encouragement when he’s clearly in pain. Instead he says, “I think I might try this week.”

Stiles perks up, to the point where he lifts his head from the pillow. “Wha—? Really?” His mouth is hanging open, but his eyes are giving off a glint of happiness. Dare he say, he even looks excited? “Did Derek—?”

“Could you just not bring up his name right now?” Scott asks, wrinkling his nose. “That guy has nothing to do with it. He’s a terrible counselor and I don’t think he should be anywhere near teenagers with problems.”

Stiles scoffs and Scott rolls his eyes. Of course Stiles is still going to think the guy farts rainbows, even after a sexual encounter gone wrong. “He’s not even that good looking,” Scott says, getting a quelling look from Stiles. 

“Are you blind? The guy is like—” he cuts himself off quickly though, saying instead, “quit distracting me with thoughts of Derek Hale’s perfect face that I’ll probably never see again. Tell me what changed your mind.”

“Allison Argent,” Scott sighs. He knows it sounds dreamy and ridiculous, but this is the first crush he’s ever had. Go big or go home. 

“She looks like the type to fix things,” Stiles nods, looks approving. Not that Scott didn’t think he did, considering he introduced them. There’s footsteps on the stairs; loud, clunky ones that are most definitely coming from Mr. Stilinski’s boots, and Scott isn’t disappointed when he rounds the corner.

“Hey son,” he greets, and Stiles lifts his weight a bit to wave properly. “You mom said you had a hard day. You want to come tell us about it, or are you feeling better.”

Stiles smiles. It’s not big, Scott notes, but it’s real, which is a good sign. “I’m not fully functional yet. You might have to carry me down the stairs.”

Mr. Stilinski rolls his eyes, but Scott’s not impressed with Stiles’ sarcasm for deflection. Nudges him a bit to try and get him to act serious. “Your mom has dinner ready. You should come get something to eat.”

Dinner at the Stilinski’s house is always good, because everyone always tries to be home. Stiles’ dad makes his way home from the prison, and his mom from wherever she works. No one really knows. Top secret government work. 

Stiles is in better spirits though, wolfing down his chicken parmesan and asking for seconds before anyone else is halfway done. 

“You’re making me think this afternoon was a ruse to get this meal out of me,” Mrs. Stilinski says, narrowing her eyes as if Stiles is a puzzle that needs figuring out. “Please use your fork.”

Stiles pauses in the middle of sweeping his index finger across his plate to scoop up some stray sauce.  He looks like a deer caught in headlights, then he’s quickly shoving his finger into his mouth. 

“I’ve got to get back to the prison,” Stiles’ dad says, setting down his own utensil. “We’ve got a few people out on a run tonight. Might have to drag in a few suspects tonight.”

“Suspects for what?” Stiles asks, interested. 

“You know I’m not allowed to discuss business.” he answers, standing and puffing out his chest. Stiles sighs, because of course that’s always been the rule. 

  

 

Last year was different. 

Derek was in his senior year of sidekick classes and Kate Argent was the new teacher that asked him to stay after class. 

Derek had felt a spark of attraction after the first few sessions where she was ‘helping him mold his powers’. Derek didn’t know any better. All he knew was that someone found his gift interesting instead of a sad excuse for a super power.

Kate and he ended with her caught up in a scandal of villiany that was kept quietly away from the community, and Derek came forward as a witness against her. He hadn’t realized that the grittiness of her emotional flavor was because she was disgusted with her own desire for him. 

The things people will admit when they have nothing to lose and only an audience to perform for. Kate wanted to make sure she went out with flare...one that actually counted.

Kate had a thing against shifters. She thought them uncontrollable and in need of being put down, which stemmed from her childhood and the fact that she was attacked by one. 

Derek didn’t need a psychology degree to realize Kate was projecting her fear of her assailant onto all shifters.

Derek hasn’t seen Kate since the spring. Not since she was convicted and locked away at Panoptic to serve a few years of “attitude adjustment”. Derek knows the usual fix for plotting would be intense therapy sessions, but she’d overstepped her bounds. 

The echo of Deaton’s voice as he read the charges fills up Derek’s skull with memories of the day. 

“Coercion of minor through sexual abuse. Coercion of a minor through misinformation. Theft of a firearm.”

Her list was quite a long one and Derek could see her family looking on unhappily in his mind’s eye. The newest heroine of their famous family, Allison, looked grim. Her father’s hand was on her shoulder, and she was watching Kate unblinkingly.      

“Assault with intent to commit murder,” Deaton rambled, and Uncle Peter’s face flashed before his eyes. Uncle Peter still wasn’t up for shifting fully, even today. The dose of hecatolite that she’d shot him with had left him comatose for several weeks.

Melissa McCall had healed him, as best she could, but the mineral still hindered his abilities. She was only able to take away the pain and get him out of the coma when she arrived back from her trip. She had someone else she had to heal, who’d been caught in the line of fire. The hecatolite, she told them, would have to leave his system naturally.

“Arson with intent to commit murder,” Deaton ended with.

Derek’s standing outside of his family home now. They were lucky no one had ended up dead. Derek wonders if he would have felt the pain and guilt of their loss. He blames himself for what happened, even though he can’t feel the weight of that knowledge, and his family reminds him that it wasn’t his fault. Kate used him to get close to his family full of the shifters she wanted eradicated. 

His power let her slip right in and manipulate him. Right after Kate’s conviction, Mrs. Argent offered him a place at Beacon Prep. Not because he was talented, but out of guilt for what her sister in law had done. 

The lights are on inside, a chorus of different growls leaving the open windows and Derek’s almost afraid to go inside because he’s sure they’ll sex on him. He’s supposed to be fighting crime and he just mouthed at a student’s dick through their jeans. He did exactly what Kate did to him. It’s part of the reason she’s locked behind bars that suppress her power. 

Logic is telling him that he’s going to have a cell next to hers, but the nose pushing at the back of his knee is telling him to get in the house. Derek turns and cards his fingers down the scruff of the black wolf’s neck. “Hey mom,” he whispers. She answers him by pushing him closer to the door, and he rolls his eyes before letting them both inside.

His mom runs up the stairs, nails clicking on the wooden floors, and Laura tackles him from the side. “Where have you been little brother? It’s been ages since you ate with us.”

“You know,” Derek starts, “out saving the world.”

“Yeah, right,” Laura chortles, and puts Derek in a headlock to give him a noogie. She’s far too strong and likes to use it against him. Laura is a beast even in her human form. “Cora tells me you have quite the fan club at school.”

Derek frowns at the smile in Laura’s eyes. “Not true.”

“Is true,” Cora singsongs, peeking her head around the doorframe from where she’s setting the table. “I hear your office is the best place to hang out for free period.”

“I’m a counselor, not they’re friend,” Derek tries to clarify, but his sister’s just give him a look. 

Laura says, “I think it’s funny that you’re only popular now that you aren’t one of the little brats that has to be taught.”

“Hey!” Cora cries. 

“No offense,” Laura mollifies, holding her hands out in front of her.  Mom comes back down the stairs in pajamas and Derek smiles, senses her contentedness now that she’s home and away from whatever mission she was on. It makes Derek warm inside and stops the dread that was creeping in on him. 

Dread he should not have been feeling.

His mom’s PJs are all lavender pinstripes that look regal even though she wears them for comfort. “ _Why dress up, when you can dress for comfort?”_ was her motto.

“What’s up with you honey?” she asks, cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb against the skin there. “You hardly ever come for dinner anymore. What’s going on?”

“Can’t I just want to see my family?” Derek asks, and she grins at him.

“I’d believe that if you ever wanted anything.” Derek shrugs at her, unwilling to explain the situation. 

One of his cousins purrs, sliding between his legs to rub against him for a pet, but knocks him off balance instead. “Would you quit it Marie? You know you’re too big for that,” his mother, Talia, chides.

Marie growls up at her, sharp and playful, and whops her in the leg with her black and orange tail. Talia tugs on the end before she disappears around the corner. Marie lets out huff of breath, whiskers baying and then shifts into a human, striped fur disappearing into the skin of her shoulders and ankles. 

A fluffy ball of fur appears at the foot of the stairs, yapping at Talia’s back and when she turns it melts into a boy. “I’m gonna kill her! I’m not useless,” he whines, and Derek’s shoulders burn with Adam’s anger. 

“What’d she do now?” Talia sighs. 

“She said I was going to be sorted into sidekick classes because turning into a puppy was stupid. I’ll show her stupid when I make villains fall to the floor in their need to pet me and coo at me!” Adam’s eyes are narrow and angry, but he seems sure of his convictions. 

“So you’re going to cute them to death?” Marie calls from the other room. 

“Leave him alone,” Talia says and wraps her arm around Adam, leading him to the table. Cora’s set all the food on the surface and is slapping at Laura’s and Marie’s hands as they dive straight for the dessert. “And you two,” Talia says, pointing at the girls whose hands are frozen over the apple crisp. “That’s for after dinner. Stay out of it. Derek come into the kitchen with me.”

The kitchen is big and blue and the color makes Derek think of calm. He had intended not to say anything, but it makes him immediately spring into confessional mode. “I did it again.”

His mom’s mouth pulls down, her arms cross. “Did what, exactly?” but her flavor is worried all around. “Not another Kate?” she asks, and he doesn’t know how to answer that question. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Derek whispers. “It wasn’t planned,”

“Well, I didn’t think you would plan to help kill your family,” she says. It sounds harsh, but her color is still gruesome green. “Who is it? Should we leave the house?”

“No!” Derek startles. “It’s not like that. At least I don’t think it is. Doesn’t feel like it anyway,” he tells her and his gut pulls at the sheer want that had been pooling off Stiles in waves. The tenderness of his touch after they had both come. It makes him smile when he shouldn’t smile because there is no warmth around him, only worry. 

His mom touches the tip of her finger to the corner of his mouth. “What’s this?” she asks, in genuine confusion. He wonders for a moment if she can see their shared kisses, but then he remembers they never kissed. “You’re smiling,” she says, and of course that’s what it is. His mom knows all about his gift. She knows all about the effect emotions have on him, and the lack of his own. 

Derek supposes he should be grateful he doesn’t have a cut from Stiles’ zipper or a burn from the friction of the boy’s jeans against his face. 

“I don’t know,” Derek answers, because he really doesn’t, but there’s a shade of seashell mingling with old lace. It looks like latchwork across his eyelids and fills him with hopefulness. 

“Did you meet someone? I mean, someone who you might be able to feel for?” Talia asks, grinning ear to ear and smoothing her hand across his cheek. Derek can’t look at her eyes, stares instead at the darkness of her hair because he doesn’t want to see her sadness when he says.

“Mom...you know that won’t happen.”

“Derek, stop. You just have to--” she starts, but Derek cuts her off.

“It felt good to be around him,” he tells her, and she looks surprised, but he continues. “But I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“You need to give it a chance,” she encourages, and Derek wants to agree with her. Can feel her flash of hope gliding across his skin. For some reason, he thinks she would sing a different tune if she knew who it was that made him smile.

A student. 

“Come sit down, and have a meal with us. Your father should be home shortly.” Derek nods, hopes she’s right...about his dad coming home because he can hear his cousins fighting in the dining room. 

He grabs her arm before she can leave the room though. “Can you come to Beacon Prep tomorrow? I’ve got a student you might be able to help with.”

  

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says as soon as he bursts through the doors of Derek’s office the next morning. His apology doesn’t go as planned, because Derek isn’t there. 

Instead, a dark haired girl with a minx face is watching him with a strange expression. “I had that same speech planned, but I think he’s running late today. Also, this room is already occupied so you’ll have to come back later.”

“You must hang around Lydia, because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she said to me when I burst in on her session with him,” Stiles responds. 

“Do you interrupt his counseling often?” she asks, and then, “Ugh. Lydia Martin?” 

Stiles nods, immediately jumps to her defense. “Don’t you dare besmirch her name!”

The girl narrows her eyes. The gaze looks fierce in her pixie face and her voice is as hard as her eyes. 

“ _She’s_ part of my problem.” If looks could kill, Stiles is sure she’d burn someone on the spot. He’s not entirely unsure that if that’s her superpower. It could be the reason she’s been thrown into Derek’s shoddy care. 

_Deal with the diabolical beast who can burn beings with her laser vision!_ Stiles thinks; imagines Mrs. Argent laughing maniacally as she tosses the poor girl into Derek’s incompetent grip. 

Derek trips into the office a moment later and looks between them startled. “I really don’t want a repeat of yesterday, so I’d prefer if you weren’t my first two visitors,” he says. 

“I just came to say sorry,” both Stiles and the girl say at once. Stiles glares at her, because honestly, he’s pretty sure his apology is more important. Sexual assault is pretty bad compared to cat fights and petty power games between pretty girls. 

_Ugh alliteration!_ Stiles thinks and Derek gives him a funny look. “You two are already giving me a headache. Apology accepted. Now get out.”

“Wait! I wanted—”

“Stiles,” Derek cuts him off, not looking at him. “Just go. Greenberg, get to class. You’ve already skipped quite a few for sessions.” Stiles flinches, because he at least thought Derek would let him explain. Not forgive him exactly, but at least let him say sorry better than a rushed sentence shared with some girl Derek obviously knows quite well. Stiles is hurt, which he has no right to be. He almost wants to be the one in a catfight with this _Greenberg_ , but she’d probably rip him apart in ten seconds flat. 

“Fine. I’ll go.” Stiles says, stepping around Derek to flee. “I’m just— I didn’t mean...I’m sorry.” he rushes out. 

Class sucks that day. He can’t focus in Costuming Concepts, which is just ridiculous because their guest speaker is Ms. Mode, who is pretty much a goddess. She’s the only hero that the movies got right, and then they only made her the woman that dresses them. Edna is a forced to be reckoned with, and she scraps half the class’ ideas without a second thought, tossing her pen this way and that. 

“No. No. Definitely not,” she gripes, nixing all of the brilliant ideas that Stiles had been coming up with over the past few weeks. Stiles just blows out a breath, not even interested in her advice, which is just awful. He can see her eyeing him critically over the top of his sketch pad. “With your power you want something less flashy!” 

“Meh,” Stiles says and Edna raises her eyebrows and moves on to someone else. The professor is giving him a look of horror. Stiles shrugs. Today is not the day to deal with a woman who has more fashion sense in her fingernail than Stiles has in his whole being. 

He has a feeling that she is going to curse him with a puke-nasty costume that probably came from a unicorn’s ass. It’s been that kind of week, and she’d probably remember the day that the stupid kid with teleporting powers ignored her advice.

Maybe he can convince her otherwise with some choice influence in his words someday, he wonders briefly, before going right back into his pit of pity party. 

“You’re so pathetic, dude,” Scott says to him in Genetics, and Stiles retaliates by gently kicking him in the shin. “Ow.”

“You two are such children,” Danny Mahealani points out and Stiles has a mental breakdown.

“When the fuck did you become our friend?” Stiles asks, way too loudly, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Mr. Harris sweeping out of the room. 

“When you were mysteriously missing from class yesterday,” Danny responds. 

“Oh my God. I think you were wrong dude. That’s got to be the worst luck ever. You’re going to regret all your life choices if you hang out with us,” Stiles warns him and Scott kicks him under the table.

“Dude. Don’t jinx it. Danny is actually brilliant at this class.” Scott tells him.

“At every class really,” Danny says nonchalantly flipping through his notes. 

“And aren’t you modest?” Stiles asks, half pouting, because that gift would have been perfect. He’d get good grades and the guy, and actually be able to apologize without getting kicked out of the room. Everything would go his way. “Oh dude! Can I ask you a favor?”

Danny gives him a look. “Already? Not going to even ask me to dinner first?” 

Stiles stops, considers him for a moment. “You actually want to go on a date with me?” Danny has the decency not to laugh in his face, but Stiles can sense that he’s doing it on the inside. “So uncool. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Me? You’re the one that’s going to ask me do something morally questionable just because we’re working in the same group,” Danny says.

“Who says it’s _morally questionable?”_ Stiles asks, doing air quotes with his fingers. “That is very subjective.”

“Don’t listen to him Danny,” Scott butts in. “He’s having a rough couple days and he’s trying to make his pain easier to cope with by making you his buffer. Why deal with things the normal way, when you can have your super special friend deflect all the bad energy coming your way?” Scott asks. 

“You are the actual worst,” Stiles says to him and Scott gives him a winning smile. “Ugh. Just go away.” Stiles turns in his seat and Danny snorts. 

“Actual children,” he says. “I’d be willing to help, as long as it’s not illegal,” Danny clarifies.

“Define illegal,” Stiles says.

“I think if you have to define it, then it’s probably not a good idea,” Scott says from beside him and Stiles elbows him in the side. 

“Definitely not illegal, because that would be wrong,” Stiles laughs. “I was just testing you and your moral compass.”

Danny nods skeptically. “Sure.”

Stiles fistpumps the air and Mr. Harris walks back into the classroom.

“Do charades help with your work Mr. Stilinski?” he asks, and Stiles deflates, leaning over the desk. He uncaps his highlighter to start actually participating in the assignment. 

Scott comes in close and says, “I have a meeting with Mr. Hale later. Please let me go see him before you piss him off?”

“Pfft,” Stiles says. “I wasn’t going to do it today.” He glances up, catches sight of Greenberg behind Scott. “She was in Derek’s office this morning.” It comes out a lot more vehement than he means it to. 

“Derek?” Danny asks, obviously eavesdropping. 

“You do know that his office is available to everyone, right? Not just the people that want into his pants,” Scott says.

And Danny cuts in with, “I swear to God, Stilinski, you better not want my help with that.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows innocently. “God no! That would be awful of me, and so uncomfortable with you standing so close, what with you being my good luck charm.” Danny gives him the stink eye and says, “nope. I’m not helping. You can’t be trusted.”

Allison meets them outside the cafeteria and Stiles wants to poke his eyes out when he sees how cutesy her and Scott are acting around each other. It should be illegal to be that adorable. Scott follows her to a table full of heroes that are mostly upperclassmen and Stiles stops short.

“Let me grab Erica, Boyd, and Isaac,” Stiles says, and Scott nods.

When he gets to the table, Stiles notices that Erica is arching her electric current through her iPod, switching songs without even touching it. He shakes his head fondly, because at least she is learning to use her Gift for cool shit.

 

 

“I really should stop letting you in here during your free period Lydia,” Derek says as she puts her purse down, next to her chair, placing a book on his desk.

“Then kick me out,” Lydia says, opening the tome. She obviously doesn’t take him seriously, and Derek blows out a breath, because this is exactly the wrong kind of relationship to promote with students. They’re going to walk all over him. 

Lydia works quietly, and only rubs on Derek’s nerves when she gets to what must be a particularly hard passage. Her frustration gets transferred to him and then he’s cracking his neck, involuntarily trying to shrug it off.

“Sorry,” Lydia says distractedly, tossing him a look when she hears it. “I know it’s probably hard for you to be around people.”

“What do you know?” Derek asks, because she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Lydia scoffs at him.

“A lot actually. I know you’re an _Empath,_ and emotional transference is what led to Kate Argent’s easy seduction...and consequently her sentence to Panoptic.” She purses her lips as she studies him. “Not many people know, but I’ve been blessed with a gift.”

“And what’s that?” he asks, even though he knows all about her scream. He’s dying to be a smartass after what his emotional rollercoaster yesterday. “The power of prying into other people’s business?”

“Actually, I have an acute phobia of that,” Lydia informs him. She sits back in her chair then, hands going to her lap, and mouth opening and closing before she decides to say whatever it is she obviously doesn’t want to. The red stain on her mouth pulls the skin of her lips together, between each word, her makeup sticky but stark on her face. “I sensed their deaths.”

“Whose?” Derek asks, honestly confused. 

Lydia gives him a dose of intense despair, which curdles his stomach. Her face remains impassive, except her eyes, which look glassy. “Your family.”

“What?” Derek breathes.

“I screamed for them,” Lydia whispers. “I’d screamed before...but this was different. I knew they were going to die down to my very being. I could see it.”

Derek can feel it, the echo of what she’s describing bouncing under his skin. Terror and pain and cold. 

“I’m the reason she got caught,” Lydia says. “I felt badly about it at first, because Allison is like family to me, but saving lives is what we were put on this planet to do. Not breaking glass for party tricks.” 

Derek nods, even though he’s seen her scream inflict damage. It’s no secret that it’s powerful, but Lydia’s gift stretches far beyond what he originally thought. It makes sense though. Most heroes aren’t limited to one ability.  

“Thank you,” he whispers, and he does feel grateful, though he shouldn’t. 

“There’s no need to thank me,” Lydia tells him with a sad little smile. “I may not be nice, but I did what any decent person would.”

She goes quiet after that, back to her work, and only leaves when a knock sounds on the door of his office. She packs up her things before Derek even makes it to the door and opens it to see his mother on the end.

“Hey mom,” he says.

She leans in, giving him a peck on the jaw, and Lydia moves around them and out into the hallway, red hair disappearing within a few seconds. “What did you need my help with?” 

“I’ll send for him,” Derek says.

 

  

Scott doesn’t want to go the guidance office again. Hates it really, but he should probably try. Lydia has a point, as does Allison. He’s pretty much useless if he doesn’t use his power, and Mr. Hale is trying to help. 

Scott refuses to call him Derek, even in his head. It’s just too weird with Stiles waxing poetic about his eyebrows and jawline. It’ll just get all kinds of awkward. And besides, Allison is much easier on the eyes.

“Allison is like, perfect,” Scott sighs as Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“I know,” Stiles says. “It’s impossible not to like her.”

“She’s like Wonder Woman,” Scott says, picturing Allison in the tight bodice and trunks. He bets she looks great in blue. 

“Okay dude, if I’m not allowed to love the X-Men, you’re not allowed to put Allison in your Wonder Woman fantasies," Stiles orders.

“Why not?” Scott asks, wanting the fantasies on principle. 

“Because, we both know that Wonder Woman is just a legend.”

“So what? I can fantasize about the girl I’m dating,” Scott proclaims and Stiles jaw stays wide, words not coming to him. “Yeah, that’s right. Allison totally declared me as her beau.”

“You should fear for your life dude,” Stiles finally says. “At the moment, her gift is a secret, but her mom’s disdain for people in general is common knowledge. I doubt you’ll last the week.”

“Thanks for the support buddy,” Scott whines, because he totally forgot how Mrs. Argent looked at him during Power Placement. 

“What can I say? I’m a giver,” Stiles snarks.

“You give me a migraine,” Scott gripes. 

“I try,” Stiles grins, because he’s secretly an asshole, but he is Scott’s asshole, so he has to love him. Someone grabs his shoulder from behind and Stiles flails in fear. “Holy God! Where did you come from?” he shouts

“You have a habit of just appearing out of nowhere, don’t you?” Scott asks, seeing Allison behind him when he turns. 

She gives Scott a secretive smile and says, “You’re being summoned to the guidance office.”

“Do you even go to class?” Stiles asks her. “I know you’re an office aid, but shouldn’t they just announce something like that over a PA system, instead of sending their messenger on a mission.”

“It’s much more fun sneaking up on people,” Allison says with a smirk. 

“Point,” Stiles concedes. “Well, have fun with that buddy. I have to get to Genealogy.”

Scott grimaces. “Have fun.”

“Can I walk with you?” Allison asks.

“Of Course. As if I was going to turn you down,” Scott returns.

“Well, I don’t want to come off as too clingy.” 

“By all means, cling. I’ll actually be the one hanging off you. I guarantee it,” Scott warns her, because she is sweet, gorgeous, and smart. 

“Actually, I want to show you something. It’s a faster way of getting to Derek’s office than through the Underdome.” 

“Lead the way,” Scott says, and she tugs on his hand, pulling him toward the wall and into the shadows. For a moment he thinks there are secret passageways, but then he feels a tingle throughout his body and then he can see the sunny hallway outside the headmistress’s office. They’re still in the shadows, by the drinking fountain. “Whoa,  how did you do that?”

Allison shrugs, grinning and Scott wants to kiss her. “That’s my gift. I’m a teleporter, like your friend Stiles. But I’m much more inconspicuous.” 

“So that’s how you’re always popping up out of nowhere!”

“Well, not out of nowhere. I travel through the shadows,” Allison tells him, and she grabs his hand, pulling him along the hallway until they’re in front of Mr. Hale’s door.

“That is so cool,” Scott sighs, because nobody would see her coming. 

“It’s useful,” she responds, rapping her knuckles against the wood. Mr. Hale answers a moment later and Allison turns to leave. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Scott,” Derek says, his eyebrows severe. Scott is dreading this meeting already, even though he promised to try. Derek is just too depressing. “Come on in.” He stands aside, so Scott can enter; the first thing he sees is a wolf.

She’s black and beautiful, with gold eyes and Scott wants to launch himself at her immediately.

 

Derek tastes the rolling excitement as soon as Scott spots the wolf. He wonders how he manages to keep himself from launching at her, but he does. He tries to walk calmly towards it, and once he’s near her, he kneels and then starts stroking her fur.

Derek hopes Stiles was right, and the wolf will be the key to getting Scott to open up. 

“Look at how beautiful you are,” Scott coos at the wolf, and Derek wants to laugh because it’s his mom, can sense her own amusement. “You remind me of Molly, but you are much more well-mannered. She used to jump all over me. I would kill to play with you,” he croons.

Derek’s not used to his mother’s amusement, especially when she’s shifted. She is butting into Scott’s touch, nose sniffing at his hand. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. What’s your name?” Scott asks, and Derek’s about to answer, but the wolf growls and Scott responds with, “Talia huh?” 

Derek’s mouth falls open, because he didn’t say anything and it’s not hard to figure out how Scott found out her name. 

“I’m Scott,” Scott introduces himself. Talia whines at him. It’s long and turns into a bark at the end. “You must be a shifter. Molly was a police dog, but she was way less articulate.” He glances up at Derek, hands petting Talia’s muzzle. “Was this deliberate?” he asks, clearly on to what Derek did. 

Derek gives him a lopsided grin. “Stiles gave me a little tip. I mean, he didn’t tell me what your power was, He just said to bring in a dog.”

“Who did you manage to bribe into doing this?” Scott says with narrow eyes. 

“Scott, I’d like you to meet my mom,” Derek tells him, and Talia gives a bark. “I know I’m not the best of counselors, but why would you hide a gift like this?”

A deep, dark blue penetrates the backs of Derek’s eyelids, and melancholy makes him lean against the wall.

“My dad. He made it clear that my mom and I are freaks,” Scott tells him. 

Talia gives a sharp growl, and Derek can only imagine what she’s saying. Nothing good, he guesses, because being gifted is something to be proud of, not something shameful. 

“I suppose he was just angry because he only found out after he caught me talking to Molly...like an actual conversation with her. Not just rambling to your pet because you need to vent,” Scott says to Talia. Derek sits, because he’s not the best at sorting out people’s problems, but his mother seems to be handling the situation just fine. 

Scott talks to her, and Derek suspects that he feels comfortable sharing everything with her because of what form she is in. He doubts that Scott would be so open if she looked like a person. Derek lays his head on his desk, listening to Scott talk and a cascade of emotions overtakes him. When he glances at them out of the corner of his eye, Talia has lain down and Scott is preoccupying his hands by stroking her. 

It only lasts about twenty minutes, but by the end of it Derek is sure that Talia has convinced Scott to not hide his gift. Scott isn’t making him feel resigned, but accepting. It makes his stomach twist a little, which must be nerves. 

Talia licks Scott’s cheek, making him laugh and send Derek into a fit of contentment. He stands from where he’s perched himself on the carpet, gives Derek an awkward wave before saying, “I better get back to class. Thanks for this.” 

He turns towards the door, opens it even, but doesn’t leave. “I want you to know that Stiles is sorry. He didn’t mean to do what he did. He thought you wanted it too, and I’m not sure I agree with whatever’s going on, but I also think you guys should talk.”

Derek’s confused because Stiles didn’t do anything, Derek did. Derek was the one that mouthed at the kid’s dick through his jeans and jerked himself off. His mom tilts her head at Derek, questioning, and Derek waves her off. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Derek confirms, and Scott walks out. He needs to fix things between the two of them, because Stiles doesn’t need to have a guilty conscience over something that isn’t his fault. 

Talia transforms back into a person and gives Derek a look, eyebrow raised now that she doesn’t have to tilt her head in order to get her confusion across.

“Who is Stiles? Do we need to have a conversation Derek?” she asks, because she’s nosy. Derek shakes his head. “One of the kids you’re helping?” 

“No, and I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, turning away from her and messing with the papers on his desk. Files filled with nothing, because he doesn’t keep notes on his ‘patients’. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says to his back, and then leaves his office before he can even thank her for her help with Scott.

*************

 

The next day is a battle day. It’s where the upcoming heroes and heroines put their skill to the test. Most of the teachers don’t like to overwhelm students during Underdome days, at least that’s what it was like for Derek. While he was catching up on History of The Gifted, the rest of the school had been buzzing about in excitement.

The Underdome is where Lydia Martin remains undefeated in Save the Citizen, much to the chagrin of shifters. 

After lunch the students convene to the Underdome Where Derek can hear the dark muttering of some upperclassmen about the disrepair of the classrooms down here. How the school should just do away with the sidekick classes. Derek glares at him, because it isn’t fair to judge the hero support over something they can’t control. 

The halls are crowded as they all stumble into the dome. The dais has been converted into a contraption with teeth that a dummy is slowly lowered into. If the Heroes can’t save the dummy in time they end up feeling humiliated, then get extra coaching on what they could have done differently.

Derek likes watching the game, if only because it becomes easy to spot the people who are probably going to become villains in the future. They have a penchant for causing pain and always laugh when the hero fails. 

Unsurprisingly, Matt Daehler chooses villain. Derek doesn’t know who his companion is, but he smiles when Erica and the invisible boy named Boyd become heroes. They win in under a minute. Boyd disappears, presumably to save the dummy from being decimated by grinding teeth, as Erica takes both Daehler and the other wrongdoer down. 

Matt, not knowing his enemies power, goes all in with his own. He shoots Erica with a jet of water that knocks her off her feet and floods the floor. It’d be a pretty easy win for the villains, but Erica uses the water to her advantage. Water is an excellent conductor and she sends her current through it, which knocks her opponents to the ground and leaves them twitching. 

Erica and Boyd leave the floor, the dummy in tow and a flourish to their steps. 

A few more teams go, but Derek couldn’t say what happened after that surprising performance. He catches Erica’s eye from where he’s leaning against the wall and smiles winningly at her. She beams at him and nudges Boyd to get his attention when Derek gives them a thumbs up.

***********

Derek runs into a flustered Greenberg on his way out of the school. She seems to be organizing a group of sidekicks, but Derek doesn’t have time to listen in. Panoptic already missed him once this week, and he really doesn’t intend to make it a habit. 

Stilinski pats him on the back when he arrives and mutters his apologies at being absent the night before last. Derek was out on mission and didn’t get to tell Stilinski sorry before. 

“Don’t worry about it, Derek. Sometimes we all need a night off. I stayed in for a few hours after my first shift anyway,” he says, guiding Derek to the interrogation room. “Stiles was freaking us out.” 

Derek stops dead in his tracks and asks, “What?”

“Stiles, my son. I haven’t seen that boy so quiet and upset since his mom was hospitalized,” Stilinski explains and continues walking, gesturing for Derek to follow. Derek wants to die, because he gave his boss’ kid an orgasm, and then sent him home to wallow in misery. 

He’s lucky Stiles didn’t say anything. 

It had been one thing when Stiles was just one of the students at Beacon Prep, and Derek just thought he was going to be thrown in a cell that the warden guarded. The warden, however, probably wouldn’t go so easy on Derek if he was not only sleeping with a student, but breaking his heart and sending him home to mend it on his own.  

Needless to say, Derek is off his game during questioning. The prisoner is being problematic as it is, and Derek isn’t focused. The man is led back to his cell and Derek’s back in his loft in record time.

 

**********

 

Derek sends for Stiles during his first period because no one is ever in his office at that time. He needs to talk to the kid as soon as possible. 

Stiles opens the door, looking a complete mess; hair in disarray and wearing no less than three layers of shirts. The plaid is buttoned wrong, which means he was probably rushing as he dressed. Gray colors are dancing bleakly behind Derek’s eyes and Stiles seems withdrawn, with his hands in his pockets.

“I take it I’m not here for a party,” Stiles says. His attempt to lighten the mood falls flat, but that’s probably because Derek’s caught up in his messy emotions that are anything but playful. 

“I didn’t mean to touch you like that,” Derek says. “It was inappropriate and—”

“Wait. What?” Stiles asks, holding up a hand to silence Derek. “What do you mean? I’m the one that practically raped you.”

“What?” Derek asks, perplexed. Stiles is making Derek’s spine curl with guilt, which means he actually believes that he took advantage of Derek. “You didn’t--”

“I can do more than teleport. I’ve got an influence. I can make people believe what I want them to believe,” Stiles explains. “I’m not very good at it. I mean, my parents figured out what I was doing and banned me from using it in the house because I kept trying to get out of trouble.” He’s rambling a bit, and it would make weird sort of sense of he’d made Derek touch him.

“How does it work?” Derek asks.

“What do you mean?” Stiles questions, caught off guard. “Like can I influence anyone?”

“No. How do you influence someone? What do you have to do?”

“Well, I have to tell them to believe whatever I wanted of them. Like my parents. It was so easy to convince them that it was the neighbo—”

“No, stop,” Derek starts, holding up a hand. “Your emotions may have influenced me a little, but you didn’t use whatever mind-whammy you have. You’re compulsive, but you didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. I’m still the adult. I’m still responsible for anything that goes on between us.” 

“But—” Stiles tries to say but Derek cuts him off.

“I need you to listen to me,” Derek says. “You and I, isn’t going to happen.”

Derek can feel the bleed of Stiles’ unhappiness, can see the knit of his eyebrows that says he doesn’t like what Derek is saying. “I just—”

“No, stop. I was a dick to you. With good reason because it can’t happen again. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, even if I liked it.” A bubble of hope curls in Derek’s stomach, and perhaps he shouldn’t be saying things that will make Stiles think he has a chance. A ghost of a smile makes its appearance on Stiles’ mouth. 

“We can’t, and that’s final,” Derek says with a hard swallow and Stiles goes back to a gloomy grey. “You’re a good kid, and you don’t need someone like me, who can’t even feel, be the person you grow attached to.”

A shiver of heartbreak passes through him. Derek doesn’t even know how he knows that’s what it is, but it makes him cold and makes his mouth taste of copper. Stiles reaches out for him and Derek flinches back. “Don’t touch me,” he pleads. “I helped your friend Scott use his gift, which means you don’t need to come here anymore. Just go back to class.” 

And so he does and Derek can’t believe he forgot to mention that Stiles’ dad is his boss.

 

 

 

Classes are rather tame that day. Stiles is glad his conversation with Derek is over, even if it didn’t go exactly as planned. Derek is a much more complicated person than he figured. 

He’s got other things to focus on, though. After watching his first Save the Citizen, Stiles is determined to participate in the next. He tells Harris as much who just laughs in his face. 

“It’s nice to have dreams,” Harris says, and then proceeds to hand out a test as Danny shoots him a sympathetic look. Stiles grits his teeth, and actually answers all of the questions without mishap. That’ll show Harris, he thinks. 

He completely forgets to congratulate Scott on using his power. Scott is his friend, and he should be able to pat him on the back when he’s done well if he wants too. Using his gift is what he’s needed since his father left. The guy was an absolute dick and made Scott feel like his powers were something to be ashamed of. 

Even Scott’s grandma hadn’t been able to pull him out of his funk. Scott mentions she’s coming for dinner as he’s rushing out of the school, Allison’s hand in his.

“Mom just called to let me know. I want them both to meet Allison,” he shouts back at Stiles. Stiles doesn’t miss Mrs. Argent eying them coldly from the front steps. When she catches Stiles looking, she raises an eyebrow at him, mouth tight, and Stiles holds up his hands, doesn’t even bother backing away before he snaps into his backyard. Glitter dances in front of his eyes. 

The next morning Scott gushes about how much his grandma and mom loved Allison. Allison smiles sweetly and says, “I’d like you to come to dinner at my house too. My dad would really like to meet you.”

“Not your mom?” Scott questions to which Allison gives him a look. Stiles is gaping right along with her. “Oh, right...we met,” he remembers. Stiles can’t help but think she isn’t happy about her daughter dating someone who refused to show his gift when she asked. 

Stiles separates from the lovebirds and heads to class, after congratulating Erica and Boyd on their big win in the Underdome.

Stiles studies hard, even if it’s not always on the assigned material. Sometimes he sees Derek in the halls, but he keeps his distance. It’s embarrassing to know that Derek can probably feel how much he doesn’t want to. Derek doesn’t look at him though. He keeps his nose in a book, is sorting through papers as he walks, forms clasped between his lips as he flicks through the ones between his fingers. It’s impossibly adorable. As Stiles thinks it, Derek’s face goes serene, relaxing a bit. 

Stiles hurries down the hall to avoid looking at what he’s possibly causing. 

He and Scott start hanging with Allison’s crowd. They drag Erica, Boyd, and Isaac with them. It kind of amazes Stiles that they’re so open now. He’s no Empath, but even he knew they were all shy during power placement. They seem to be blossoming with each other’s company. 

Harris continues to be a complete bastard. Stiles sees him being at least halfway decent to that snake, Jackson, though, and Stiles can’t help but think they deserve each other. Lydia might be cold blooded, but that doesn’t warrant having to deal with Jackson. 

Stiles asks Erica how she managed to get a spot so early in the Underdome games and she smiles.

“You just volunteer. I guess Boyd and I just got lucky because we’ve been practicing after school.” 

Stiles makes a face. He already has to study, he doesn’t have time to practice battle. Erica snorts, like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Just go to Finstock,” she says.

“Our Econ teacher?” Stiles asks. Erica nods. 

Turns out Finstock is also a coach, even though he teaches the bare minimum in economics. Economics at Beacon Prep actually constitutes as more of a class that explains to them why destruction is bad for the cities they are trying to protect. Finstock tries his level best to teach them about catching an opponent with the least amount of damage possible. 

It sounds good in theory, but often a villain isn’t going to let you pause to save a building.

“Just don’t follow anything you see in Man of Steel,” Finstock tells them. “He helped destroy the city, not save it.”

During his free period, Stiles makes his way to the Underdome for training with Finstock instead of sitting in Derek’s office with the rest of the gang. He wants to participate in the next Underdome fight, which is in a few days. 

Finstock isn’t pleasant. In fact, the guy consistently picks Stiles’ technique apart, but he’s not the only one. Greenberg gets it worse, though Stiles doesn’t even get a chance to see her power. 

Finstock cuts her down and she grimaces, grits her teeth and says, “Whatever, cupcake.” After school she sweeps out of the building in a long, dark coat with a bunch of other sidekicks. 

His mom gets called to mission, while his dad is always at Panoptic. It’s not as busy as it could be, but he rarely sees him. Stiles ends up in his bedroom, eating snack cakes on the carpet and studying for school, with the occasional masturbatory break in between. 

Derek’s face leaves him with the need to pull his pud and leave baby gravy all over his stomach. 

“You’re disgusting,” Scott whines when Stiles tells him about his nightly ritual before school, with that exact wording. “It’s no wonder the dude doesn’t want to touch your dick. Baby gravy? Really?” Scott says with a shudder. He changes the subject with, “Mrs. Argent won’t move me up to Hero class.”

It’s unfair, because Scott is just as good as anyone else, maybe better because he’d definitely use his powers for good. 

Scott is going to end up saving puppies and adopting a whole humane society’s worth of animals to take home and play with. It’s not much in the money department, but everyone loves a boy that takes care of the animals. 

Derek telling him that Scott used his power is probably the best news he’s heard since he got his letter to Beacon Prep. It was like having a real life Hogwarts letter, but for superheroes instead of witches and wizards. At least he gets a fancy wardrobe in his future. 

“Oh yeah,” Stiles says, practically tackling Scott outside the school before classes start. He pounces on him at the entrance steps, gives Scott a noogie because it’s the only reward he can think of. Scott pushes him off, indignant and scowling as he says, “my hair!” 

“Oh shut up you adorkable loser! Your hair is always perfect,” Stiles crows and places a smacking kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you dude. How did it feel to finally use your gift again? I can’t believe I forgot to congratulate you!”

Scott huffs, trying to sound angry, but there’s a smile lingering around his lips. “This is what I’m talking about. Derek’s a terrible counselor, and those meetings are supposed to be private.”

“Oh lighten up. Did you really think he wasn’t going to tell me?” Stiles asks. “Also, you just made it super obvious by saying that you want to be transferred to Hero classes.”

“Um yeah,” Scott answers, like it’s obvious. “Those sessions are supposed to be confidential. Derek should be fired because he can’t keep his mouth shut when his boyfriend comes to visit.” 

“Boyfriend, huh?” Stiles says with a waggle of his brows, though his heart isn’t in it. Scott nods. “Yeah, well don’t get ahead of yourself, dude. He feels really bad about what happened. Doesn’t want to _take advantage_ of me.”

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around? What with Derek’s gift and all?” Scott questions. 

Stiles mouth falls open in disbelief. “Did everyone know about Derek’s gift before me? You know what, don’t answer that! I don’t even want to know. I’m just a little miffed that I didn’t even think to wonder what his gift was, but had no problem wanting to get him into my pants.”

“Rude,” Scott says mildly. 

“Don’t judge. Dude is fucking hot,” Stiles explains, “and sweet and intelligent.”

“You know I hate it when you refer to anyone but me as dude, right?” Scott asks. “I get confused, and then think you’re calling me hot. I mean, I’m totally up for making out, but Allison might get a little jealous.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Allison says smartly, appearing out of the shadows as always. 

Stiles flails. “How do you do that?”

“One of life’s little mysteries,” she grins.

Stiles frowns. “Scott, I’m starting to think that Allison is better than everyone and just doesn’t want anyone to know. Her secret superpowers are making me feel inferior.”

“She doesn’t need superpowers to do that man,” Scott says with a laugh. 

“That’s it. We’re not friends anymore,” Stiles pouts, turning to disappear down the steps. Another peal of laughter sounds behind him and Stiles gives a mutinous glare at his own feet when he trips. 

“Hey, wait,” Allison says. “Don’t be like that. Of course I’ll tell you. It’s not a secret.” She and Scott catch up with him, catching him in his stumble. “I’m a teleporter, like you, just a bit more limited.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks. “Can you only teleport parts of your body?” he asks, only half serious. That would be hardcore. Allison gives him a look, like she doesn’t know what to make of him. 

“Um no...I can only move through shadows,” she explains. “If there are none, then I’m not really going anywhere.”

“Huh,” Stiles says, a little envious because she doesn’t send up clouds of glitter when she phases in and out. He’s pretty much the worst at stealth, and it’s no wonder that she sneaks up on them so easily. 

“I know,” Scott says, eyes wide and giving Allison a look of adoration. “Pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

“Hell yeah it is. She’d make a killer assassin,” Stiles says, and Allison frowns. 

“I’m actually trying to stay away from that line of work. We’ve already had Omphalos in our family and look how that turned out?”

“Holy shit!” Stiles hollers. “Omphalos is related to you?”

“Not by choice. She’s a bit of a shame to our family,” she says. 

“Well, obviously,” Stiles says, hand waving her comment away. “I used to have such a crush on Omphalos,” Stiles says with a dreamy sigh. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a black-cloaked figure coming from the edge of the floating rock, towards the school. 

They trudge their way through crystallized grass. Someone must have used their gift to spray the lawn with ice. “Say what you will about her, but that woman was the star of many of my fantasies.”

Scott makes a pained sound in his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “Don’t listen to him Allison. Stiles has had fantasies about waxed fruit.” Stiles makes an outraged noise because Scott is revealing his secrets. Allison half-smiles, but Stiles can tell she’s trying not to.

“No joke though. Omphalos was sexy as hell and an expert marksman. I hear she could use pretty much anything as a lethal weapon. Flawless accuracy!” Stiles cries, enunciating by putting his forefinger and thumb together. “Deadly force! That woman was so fucking awesome.”

Allison’s frowning. “She’s also my aunt.”

“And it’s people like her that are ruining our society and this school,” the cloaked figure says, lowering her hood. It takes Stiles only a moment to recognize her as Greenberg; apparent social blight, and frequent visitor of the guidance office. “It’s a wonder how nobody realized she was going to go dark-side with a name like hers. You do know it means ‘center of the universe’, right?” 

Allison makes a face at her, clearly not fond of her presence. “Thank you so much for the vocab lesson Desdemona,” she says. 

“You’re welcome,” Greenberg says with a flick of her eyebrows and curve of her lips. She’s being sarcastic, that much Stiles can tell, but with a name like Desdemona he can’t really blame her. Not that he has much room to talk, because he can hardly pronounce his own. “Omphalos almost killed how many of The Gifted?” she asks, and Stiles can’t help noticing the clip of her words, the hard set of her mouth.

“Plenty,” Allison answers, voice hard. “And she is serving her time.”

Greenberg smiles. Though it looks friendly, her words are anything but. “Tell me, when you look at Derek, do you feel guilt over what your Aunt almost did to him?”

Allison lifts her chin, but doesn’t say a word. Stiles jaw is slack. He can feel his mouth hanging open because he did not see this coming. “Derek…?” he asks. “It was Derek?”

“His family,” Allison corrects. “Kate just used Derek to get close to them.”

Stiles’ mouth goes dry. He swallows, trying to gather spit into his mouth, and then he feels a snap under his skin like a rubber band, and he disappears in a blur of color. A heavy sigh welcomes him on the other end.

“God damnit, Stiles,” Derek says. “I just got the glitter cleaned up from the last time you did that.”

“I have no control over what I splatter,” Stiles whines, and Derek raises his eyebrow. When he plays it back in his head, it sounds much worse than he meant it come out. “Not like that. Anyway, that’s not what I’m here to talk about, as much as I wish my splatter was all we were discussing.”

Derek levels him with a look that says get to the point. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that’s what the problem was?” Stiles asks.

“You splattering everywhere?” Derek says with a smirk.

“No. Oh my God! I’m done talking about that,” Stiles whines. “I’m talking about Kate Argent.” 

Derek’s face goes hard. “Who told you?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose. I just happened to be in the vicinity of the verbal battle,” Stiles says.

“I’m sure,” Derek says, though he sounds like he doesn’t believe Stiles. He is so not in the mood for Derek to pretend that his power doesn’t rule out Stiles lying to him. Derek can read him like a book. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that someone used you?” Stiles asks.

“Because it was none of your business,” Derek says like it’s supposed to be obvious. He looks uncomfortable in his own skin, and Stiles is no expert on anything really, but Christ...there’s a good reason. 

“No wonder you don’t want me touching you,” Stiles says sadly, taking a step forward. Luckily Derek had probably just arrived in his office because there isn’t a desk separating them this time. He can only guess what Kate did, but from the way Derek’s been acting, he’s sure there was sex involved. 

“I don’t want you touching me because you’re a student,” Derek corrects, but his eyes are averted. 

“And you aren’t one of my teachers, dude,” Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. “Now, back on point. Kate tried to--”

“I know what Kate did to me and my family, I don’t need to rehash it,” Derek grinds out. He looks mad, which Stiles really doesn’t get, because he’s supposed to be feeding off of Stiles’ emotions, not having a burst of anger directed straight at Stiles. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, “I’m no counselor, but even I know that it’s not good to keep these things bottled up.” Stiles takes another step forward, and Derek’s eyes go wild. He looks trapped, as if Stiles is some kind of villain trying to keep him captive. “Hey, stop,” Stiles tries to calm, and he puts his hands out in front of him. It feels like what Scott used to do with wild animals that he was soothing, promising them that he meant no harm. 

Derek is giving his hand a look like he wants to bite it, and not in a good way. If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d say he had the ability to shift like his family. 

“Derek, I’m going to touch you,” Stiles says. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” He reaches out the rest of the way, slowly, and then his fingers brush Derek’s bare wrist. Derek flinches a bit, but doesn’t back away. Stiles spreads his fingers, presses his palm all along his arm and then grips him and pulls him close. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

“You already are,” Derek says, breathing erratic. Stiles gazes into his eyes though, sees his words are empty. 

“Don’t lie,” Stiles tells him, leans his weight in and pulls Derek into his arms, hugging him against his chest.

“It feels like you’re suffocating me,” Derek sighs. 

“Quit whining,” Stiles says. He holds him until Derek relaxes. Until he realizes that Stiles isn’t trying to initiate anything inappropriate. Derek tucks his face into Stiles neck a little, breathes against the plaid shirt against his throat. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Derek says. “Your dad is my boss.”

Stiles is the one to go stiff. “Dude. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“That it’s bad form to practically suck you off when I have to go fight crime under your father in the evening?” Derek asks. Stiles admits he has a point. He’s not sure how his dad would react, but they’ve already had the discussion of age in his house when they had the sex talk. Love is love and all that jazz.  He pulls his face back so he can look at Derek.

“My dad probably wouldn’t care about a little thing like age. I mean...maybe if I was like twelve, but I’m practically an adult. I’m in training to save lives, dude.” Stiles smirks. Derek doesn’t look convinced. He’s got those heavy eyebrows knitted together disbelievingly.

Stiles thinks he’s about to argue, but instead Derek says, “How did you find out?” 

Derek tries to pull away the rest of the way, because he can’t just let Stiles hold him. Stiles gazes at his face, sees the creases around his eyes and mouth. The ones that probably shouldn’t be there because he’s so young, but they don’t look like lines of age and stress. Laugh lines etched into his skin. They’re beautiful and contradict the fact that Derek doesn’t smile. Stiles has only seen him do it once, but these are deep, which means he must do it often. 

Stiles wants to run his fingers down the corner of his eye and trace down the bridge of his nose to the pink of his mouth. A tenderness wells up inside him and Derek’s eyes go soft like he can feel it. Instead of doing what he wants, Stiles just lets his hand slide down Derek’s back. Derek shakes his head, as if trying to clear it, and Stiles says a swift, “sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek replies, and he surprises Stiles by leaning his forehead against his. “How did you find out?” he asks again, changing the subject away from Derek’s superior officer; Stiles’ dad.

“Desdemona,” Stiles answers.

“Who?” 

“Desdemona _Greenberg_ ,” Stiles clarifies. 

“Huh,” Derek huffs. “The _ill-fated_.” 

“Um,” Stiles says, because Derek is obviously not making sense. 

“That’s what Desdemona means,” Derek explains.

“Why does it not surprise me that you would know something weird like that?” Stiles asks. 

Derek gives him a look. “Haven’t you ever read Shakespeare?” Stiles shakes his head. He tried, but it was a nightmare trying to decipher the language. Derek rolls his eyes. 

The first bell rings and Derek puts some space between them. “Go to class. You still shouldn’t be touching me like this, but you can come here if you really need to.” Derek says. 

Stiles feels a smile spread across his cheeks, a flutter in his stomach. Derek reflects the look back at him. A fleeting grin passes over his lips, creasing the skin around his mouth that Stiles was just noticing. “Can I come by after Save the Citizen tomorrow?” he asks.

Derek leans in, and for a moment Stiles thinks he’s going to get a kiss. He does, but it isn’t on the lips. Derek tilts Stiles head down by gripping his jaw and then presses his dry mouth against Stiles forehead.

“I’ll see you later,” he says with a nod.

*************

Stiles is giddy all day. After not conversing with Derek for over a week, and then getting a kiss from him, he’s walking on air. Sure, it was on the forehead, but Stiles isn’t going to be greedy.

He gets a pop quiz from Harris and doesn’t even care if he fails. He doesn’t whine one bit when Finstock cracks a joke about his less than stellar performance as a hero. 

Derek catches his eye at the end of the day and smiles, though Stiles is at least thirty feet away. The first thing he does when he gets home is strip off his clothes so he can stroke his dick to happy, horny thoughts of Derek. He needs to relax before tomorrow's big day.

During dinner he decides to just lay it all out to his parents. They ask how school was and Stiles starts with, “I’m pretty sure I got pregnant by looking into Derek Hale’s eyes as he smiled.”

His dad drops his fork with a clatter on his plate. It’s quiet for a few moments before his mom breaks the silence with, “You weren’t supposed to come into that power until graduation.”

 

 **********

Scott complains to him in the morning about Greenberg as they make their way across the grounds, dodging the lava moat on the way. It’s been split wider, and now circles closer to the school, heat pouring off of it in waves.

“Who even is this girl?” Scott asks. 

“She’s in all your classes,” Stiles points out. 

“Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean she should go around upsetting people.” Scott says. “I’m guessing you went to see Derek when you snapped out of reality.” Stiles sighs dreamily. He doesn’t even have to say anything to have Scott shaking his head. “I really need to figure out how to get into hero track,” Scott changes the subject. 

Stiles blows at his bangs. “The only way I see that happening is if you somehow impress Mrs. Argent.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Scott says. “Allison’s mom doesn’t appear to be the type to be easily impressed.”

“Dude!” Stiles crows, a thought coming to him. “I’ve got an awesome idea.” Scott scrutinizes him, as if his ideas are usually bad. “Oh, shut up! My ideas are always awesome. You should be my partner in Save the Citizen today.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott hisses, immediately turning away from Stiles and entering the school. “You have the worst ideas.”

“Scott! Think about this buddy!” Stiles implores. “Not only will we beat this thing, Mrs. Argent will have no choice but to see your true potential as a hero!” 

“And I also make a huge fool of myself when we get paired with someone I can’t control,” Scott counters.

“Not if we volunteer first,” Stiles points out. “We can ask to battle shifters.”

“They’ll let us do that?” Scott asks, clearly skeptical. 

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles exclaims.

**************

They go to class, even though the teachers are extremely lenient on battle days. Mostly they just turn in their homework and get graded on participation for a verbal questionnaire of the course material they’ve learned so far. Stiles fares better in history than he does in the scientific courses. Lydia Martin, brainiac bombshell that she is, takes over while the teacher grades papers. Stiles sputters out an answer on freeze rays when she catches him staring at her, clearly amused.

“That’s a heat ray,” Lydia grins, tossing her strawberry-blonde mane behind her shoulders. Stiles doesn’t even have the decency to not get distracted by her for the rest of the period.

The Underdome is packed to the brim with teachers and students alike when Stiles and Scott arrive after lunch. The dais already has the dummy hanging over the grinder, and the scoreboard already has a countdown of three minutes. 

A couple other groups volunteer first, and Stiles shifts his focus between them and Derek, who is leaning against the wall of the entrance, where he stays apart from the crowd. Stiles catches his eye a few times, grins and shifts in his seat. Scott elbows him in the side for it.

“Pay attention. We’re going to have to do this in a little bit.”

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles, and watches the kid with super speed grab the dummy easily. His competition isn’t much to deal with. It’s all very bland, compared to Erica and Boyd’s battle.

“Who’s next?” Finstock calls, and Stiles jumps out of his seat immediately, bounces on the balls of his feet a bit.

“I am. Or we are. Us,” Stiles says, grabbing Scott’s arm and dragging him up to stand next to him. Scott waves awkwardly at Finstock, who laughs.

“A sidekick as your partner, Stilinski? Really? You’re joking, right?” Finstock asks and Stiles shakes his head. “Hmm, your loss. And your competition?”

“Shifters,” Stiles specifies.

He’s expecting Finstock to comply, pick some poor unsuspecting heroes out of the crowd, but Lydia stands up on the other side of the room.

“You can have one shifter, and you can battle me.” Her long, red curls are spilling around her shoulders, and she looks like could probably crush him in her pretty, manicured claws.

“You’re not a shifter,” Stiles swallows.

“No, but he is,” Lydia points to the door where Jackson Whittemore is coming through and Stiles hears a chatter in his ears, the other students laughing at him. Finstock is smirking, because Lydia and Jackson are undefeated.

“Just great,” Scott says under his breath. “We’re going to die.”

“Probably,” Stiles says around a gulp. He glances at Derek, hoping to see his beautiful face one more time before he gets eviscerated by two people who have pristine paws. “Just talk him down. You can control him.”

“If I don’t die first,” Scott says helpfully, as Jackson gets a few feet from them. Lydia walks to the center of the room, right next to the dais to try and keep the citizen from being rescued. “Just get the dummy, quickly.”

“You know. I don’t think I thought this through very well,” Stiles admits. “I’ve never phased in and out so quickly. What if I fall into the grinder?” Scott is giving him a look that clearly says he hates him. Stiles shrugs.

“Go,” Finstock yells.

It’s fascinating to see bluish green scales erupt all over Jackson’s skin, to see his eyes turn to slits like a cat and go yellow. It’s less fascinating, and more terrifying when he sprouts clear claws that look quite menacing. His clothes slip to the floor, and Stiles almost laughs when a long tail whips out around him but it takes both him and Scott off their feet. Laughter erupts around them.

“Ow,” Stiles whines, cheek against the floor and jaw aching where it smacked the wood. He catches sight of Lydia, and she’s got a sharp smile on her face. He’s a bit miffed because he thought she was only slightly evil. Stiles sprawls there for a bit, shivers when he hears the click of Jackson’s nails on the floor. He doesn’t even notice Scott getting up onto his knees.

“Stop,” Scott orders and Stiles looks over to see his hand out in front of him, trying to draw Jackson up short, from coming closer. Jackson hisses at him. If it can be called a hiss, sounds more like a screech to Stiles, and slides closer. “Jackson!” Scott yells and the lizard monster freezes, razor sharp teeth exposed in a grimace. “Stop!” Scott growls at him.

The room starts to murmur in awe, because Jackson is listening, lowering his claws and sitting back on his haunches like a pup. His tail whips behind him as he makes a baying noise through his teeth at Scott, but he’s not the only one not moving. Stiles hears laughter and talking around him at Jackson’s change of behavior, but other shifters in the room have gone still as well. Not moving, because Scott told them too.

Stiles slides his gaze to Lydia who looks suddenly furious. He only has a moment to brace for the scream that rips through the Underdome and sends everyone into a flurry, falling off benches and slamming their hands over their ears. Stiles covers his own ears, sees Jackson and Scott go down, hitting the floor like sacks of potatoes. Scott is mouthing something at him, but it takes a second to realize what because he can’t hear.

“Get the dummy.”

Lydia looks quite proud of herself when her shrill screeching comes to an end. She pops her shoulder in a shrug at Stiles, gives him a little smirk and curtsy to match. It makes him seethe that she’s trying to embarrass them, and before he knows it, he’s popped out of existence in a whirl of color, reappearing over grinding teeth to grab the dummy.

It startles him for a second, because the citizen is hanging from a rope, and he doesn’t have a knife on him. It’d be prudent to have sharp claws at the moment, but he teleports again just as he hears Lydia’s scream start up. Stiles lands near Finstock’s feet, dummy clenched to his chest and rope shredded from where it came apart at the seams when he brought it with him. “Impressive,” Coach Finstock tells him when Lydia’s cull stops, leaving his, and probably the entire rooms, ears ringing.

Stiles smiles up at him and drops the dummy. The Underdome erupts into cheers, and he turns to have Scott scoop him up into a hug. Lydia comes forward before the other students do.

“Congratulations,” she says with a smile, which surprises Stiles because she seems like the type that likes to win. “Not bad for your first battle.”

“Not bad?” Stiles asks, mouth hanging open. “You mean we did awesome, right?” Lydia rolls her eyes and Stiles fist bumps Scott for his super sweet ability to control animals and shifters alike, then he disappears from the room in flakes of confetti. Scott can handle the converging crowd of students giving congrats.

Stiles teleports straight to Derek’s office after the battle, reappearing in a flourish of color.

Derek said he could come, so he waits. It only takes about ten minutes, which is good because otherwise Stiles would have found some way to entertain himself, whether it be going through the guy’s files or jerking off in the spindly chair. It’s much more fun when he can make the chair go in circles, and he has no idea where his come is going to land.

“Good job in there, Stiles,” Derek praises him from the doorway. Stiles leans back on Derek’s desk, fingers spread on the surface, all nonchalant like Scott and he didn’t just take down a couple of villainous seniors. Not that Lydia will ever be a villain. She’s far too smart for evildoing.

“I mean, it’s no big deal,” Stiles shrugs. Derek gives him that look that says Stiles is full of shit. He gets the same look from his parents whenever they’re home. His hand slips a little, ends up hitting a heavy book that Derek’s left open. Stiles turns to grab it and Derek stops him.

“Don’t touch my books. Touch anything else that you like, but not those,” Derek says, sweeping the novel off his desk and bringing it up to his lips.

“Oh,” Stiles says, waggling his brows. “Is that an invitation?” In response, Derek blows the specks of glitter covering the pages into Stiles’ eyes. “Ow! What the fuck, dude? I think you’ve blinded me,” Stiles exclaims, scrunching his eyes closed. “You just wounded Beacon Prep’s newest hero.”

Derek snorts. “Quit whining. It’s not that bad.” Stiles can’t see a damn thing, but he can feel Derek step into his space, can hear him lay down the book, before he grabs Stiles’ jaw. Derek takes one of his fingers and pushes down on the skin just below his lash line.

Stiles first instinct is to pull away, because the light makes his eye more sensitive. It starts to water, stinging even worse, and he can’t even appreciate the weird wings of Derek’s eyebrows, where they separate and point inwards closer to his nose. “Don’t move,” Derek orders, which is almost impossible not to do when a finger comes straight towards his eye. “Look up,” he says when Stiles tries to blink.

Stiles does as told, feels the odd sensation of Derek’s skin touching his eyeball, and then he’s pulling away. “Got it,” he says, holding up his hand with the evidence.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you did that on purpose so you could get close to me,” Stiles tells him, scrubbing his hand across his face.

Derek rolls his eyes and says, “Stop that. You’ll irritate your eyes even more.” He grabs Stiles’ arms to keep him from doing it again, grip firm and Stiles almost swoons.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Stiles sighs.

“Don’t make me regret inviting you back in here,” Derek says and Stiles almost deflates; almost. “Now, what do you want?”

“I need some advice, duh. Why else do you think I would be coming to seek your counsel?” Stiles asks. Derek gives him a look that clearly says get on with it. “Is it normal to get totally turned on when your best friend incapacitates an entire room of shifters?”

“Stiles,” Derek groans, definitely not in the mood. “Stop.”

“I’m being completely serious here. I can’t go to my dad with this kind of talk, so as the school counselor it is your job to give me advice,” Stiles says. The skin where Derek is griping his forearms is getting all warm and tingly, possibly because he’s still a bit worked up over Scott’s growly voice.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people don’t actually come in here for advice. I’m terrible at it,” Derek points out. “They come in here to loiter.”

“But I’m a hundred percent sure that I’ve still got chub over Scott, and I’m not sure how to explain that to him,” Stiles whines, completely ignoring Derek’s attempt to silence him. Derek’s grip goes tighter, thumbs massaging into the meat of his arms. It hurts a little bit, but Stiles doesn’t dare move because he’s pretty sure his dick just twitched.

Derek gets up in his face, only an inch between them and says, “Get out of here before I make you forget all about him.” And then he drops Stiles’ arms.

Stiles isn’t an expert, but he’s pretty sure that’s what jealousy looks like. He grins to himself, but leaves as asked. He doesn’t wonder how Derek was even feeling jealousy until he’s already almost home.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

Derek feels a little weird on his way out of Panoptic, like his skin doesn’t quite fit right. To be more accurate he’s been feeling a little off for a while, but today it became really apparent when he’d wanted to pin Stiles to his desk and fuck him over it, and not because lust was clouding his senses.

It felt like possessiveness and glowed so very green behind his eyes, almost acidic. It was quite fitting, really. It was like a poison pulling him towards Stiles and wanting to claim him. He’d felt it before, but never like that.

Always a reflection, a manifestation of others. He hasn’t been the instigator of emotions in a long time. Not within himself anyway.

Chris is giving him a funny look while they drive across the darkened city, Derek in the passenger seat. “You okay there, Hale?” he asks.

“I’m not sure,” Derek tells him. He catches his reflection in the side mirror, and he looks way too contemplative.

“How bad is it?” Chris asks. “Should you be out on the job if you’re not feeling too hot?” Chris asks, side-eying him. Derek gives a tight smile. If anything, he’s getting an anxious tick from Chris, his basic default setting when there are lives at stake.

“I’ll be fine,” Derek says. “We’ve got people to save.”

Derek gets nervous when they head out of Greenbrier. It’s no secret that he doesn’t like fieldwork, and he’s even less comfortable going to a different city. Chris must sense his anxiety because he says, “relax. We’re just going into Beacon Hills. I need to pick up my daughter.”

Derek whips his head around to face him. “You’re bringing your daughter?” he questions. “She’s still a student.” Chris laughs.

“Allison is more than capable of taking care of herself,” Chris points out. “Her gift came early, but she started training when she was about four.” Derek’s eyes widen and Chris flicks his eyes off the road, catching the look.

“Just gymnastics and some basic martial arts.” Chris prattles on about the kind of combat Allison is trained in and how she wowed her teachers as they drive. “We’ve put her though more advanced classes as she’s mastered things and gotten older. Her aunt trained her in weaponry as well, but you already knew that,” Chris informs him as they turn into the driveway of what must be his house.

Derek slides his eyes away from him, turns towards the window instead, and sees a black figure front flip into the yard out of the second-story window. “Whoa,” Derek breathes, impressed. He wonders if he’s leeching the emotion from Chris. Allison jogs to the car, gives Derek a tight smile and hops in the back.

“Let’s just go to an alley. It’ll be easier to get them out once I’m in a more complete darkness,” Allison intones as soon as she is buckled in and Chris is backing out.

“Next to the vet’s clinic?” Chris asks.

“Yeah. It’s only a couple blocks,” she tells them.

“Turn right,” Derek says, nudging his head in that direction. They park in a darkened alley, as black as Allison’s clothes, and exit the vehicle. Derek’s never seen her like this, like she could assassinate an entire room of armed men with just her thumb and forefinger. Though she doesn’t dress in frills either, Allison doesn’t wear clothing that tells the story of death and destruction.

There’s a crossbow strapped to her back, and Derek can see the telltale silver gleam of a knife at her hip. He assumes Allison probably has one lodged into her boot as well. She notices him looking and flashes her dimples at him.

“Now, you remember the rules?” Chris asks. “You get us into the building where the hostages are being kept. Derek will figure out what room they’re in and then we’ll go in for the rescue mission.”

“Rescue mission? Is that why you have at least four guns holstered?” Allison titters at him.

“Allison. Rules,” Chris says sharply, and her spine goes straight and she nods in understanding.

“Got it,” Allison answers. Derek isn’t expecting it when she grabs them both by the wrist and leads them into an even deeper shadow of a dumpster and then they suddenly rematerialize in a hallway of blue, slanting lights through the windows.

“Why can’t Stiles teleport like that?” Derek mutters, because there isn’t a mess of glitter covering him head to toe. He gets over it quickly when a pulse of fear makes his skin go cold. It’s rippling into him from right above them, at least three stories up. He watches the ceiling a moment, though he won’t be able to tell by sight if the person is moving. “Upstairs,” he tells them and Chris just rolls his eyes, because Derek’s made it quite obvious. “Three floors.”

Allison steps back against the wall, and as soon as they touch it, the world in front of his eyes is displaced. The hallway is now just a room, even if it’s the same shade of dark blues, or maybe that’s his vision clouding.

There’s a gasp on Derek’s left and he goes down, knees giving out as crimson flashes behind his eyes.

“We’re getting you out of here,” Allison whispers, pure calm poring off her in waves. Derek wishes he could focus only on her, but there are at least two dozen people in this room, and they’re all exuding fear. “Two at a time,” she says, and Derek can barely see, but notices her black boots moving forward. When he lifts his head, he can see her reaching her hands out, palms up.

The people look around shiftily, and Derek feels the fear still, but also senses relief, which is probably coming from the man that grabs Allison’s hand first. Another steps forward within a hairsbreadth of a second and clasps her other.

Derek doesn’t even notice she’s left until she’s grabbing two more and moving back towards the wall. Chris squeezes Derek’s shoulder as he walks past him, around the group of people. “Everyone come closer so we can get you out more quickly.”

Derek’s head pulses with an impending headache and he hears a woman ask, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s fine. Go with her,” Chris orders as Allison reemerges. She takes them out in pairs. Two by two, and Derek gets to his feet once there are only six left and no longer beating against his brain and making him so afraid he can’t even stand. He leans against the wall and breathes, lets Chris take out one of the culprits when he ambles into the room not expecting heroes to be in the midst of saving his hostages.

“What the—” he starts, but it ends with a gurgle as Chris cuts his throat, coating his hands in red. There’s a cry in front of him, one of the hostages, and Derek’s stomach turns as he feels pain pulse through him, for a moment before the man falls to floor.

“Did you really have to kill him?” Derek asks shakily.

“I wouldn’t have, but the briefing said that they’d already downed two hostages. They obviously weren’t worth saving,” Chris says, nonchalantly wiping his carbon steel blade on the sleeve of his jacket. “We serve the innocent first.”

“Last two,” Allison informs them as she walks back through the wall. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles at them and is back in under a minute, grabbing them by the hands and leading them towards the shadows. “I’m a bit disappointed,” she sighs. “I was sure I was going to get to use my crossbow. Even a knife.” Chris laughs, Derek feels a flurry of anger, and then a bullet slides past his head.

Allison falls into a roll, pulling Derek to the floor as she tugs him down with her. Chris has turned to steel beside them, skin folded into metal, which is how he got the name Silver Soldier. A few bullets bounce right off him, some fly past as they’re released from the chambers of the guns from nearly a dozen men. Derek lost sight of Allison when she rolled, but she reappears rights behind one of the men firing rounds, lets loose a blade that lodges into the guy’s spine.

He lets out a scream and falls to the floor, hilt of the knife sticking out of his back. By the time one of the other men has turned, Allison has already waltzed back into the shadows. The thin sheen of a blade gets thrown from above, lodging into the space where neck meets shoulder, and Derek has to commend her for using the space wisely.

Allison doesn’t even slide the ceiling tile back into place. Instead she leaves it open, which has a few of their assailants aiming their guns skyward. It does no good because she ends up peeking around the corner on Derek’s left, With her crossbow out and aimed at the ready. She flashes a smile at a man that catches her in the act, and then she’s pulling the trigger, arrow digging its way into his eye. By the time another one turns, Chris has felled two and Allison is rolling sideways, melting into the dark line of a desk against a wall.

Derek sees her step out on the other side of the room, right across from him. She fires two more bolts, and Derek swears he doesn’t even feel it when one lodges into his leg, missing its intended target when the guy turns at the last second. The second strikes home. “Shit,” Allison says. Derek doesn’t want to look down, hears the fire of one more bullet as Chris takes down the last man.

 *********

“I didn’t mean to hit you,” Allison tries to assure him as her and Chris load him into their gleaming red Toyota. Derek wants to believe her, but it’s a bit hard not to be angry with her when there is pain lancing through his thigh. It’s embedded at least a few inches into his flesh, but they don’t want to touch it in case it hit something major. “We’ll get you to Scott’s mom. She’ll know what to do. “

Chris already has his phone out, probably dialing her number.

“Oh shit,” Derek winces, clenching his teeth together as he shifts in his seat. “You have no idea how much I want to hit you right now,” Derek tells her.

To her credit, Allison looks apologetic. “Quit squirming. You might lodge it deeper or tear some of your muscle with the tip.”

“I already have!” Derek snaps at her, furious because it hurts like a bitch and Allison can only stand there and tell him the obvious. She crosses an arm around her middle, grabbing her opposite elbow, biting her lip for good measure.

“Look,” she starts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. He moved at the last second.” Derek wants to believe her, but he’s getting nothing from her. No ounce of remorse is making his stomach twist or his fingers twitch. Derek turns his gaze to her, wondering how she’s doing it, but then Chris calls her name.

“Go get Melissa. She’s on the first floor of Beacon Memorial. She’ll be in radiology. First door on the left if you’re going east.” Allison nods and steps against the wall to melt into the shadows.

“How does she do that?” Derek asks.

“She’s a Porter,” Chris explains, though Derek wasn’t talking about her Gift. She reappears in under a minute with Melissa McCall in tow. Derek assumes its Scott’s mom anyway. He knows she’s a healer, but they look so much alike it makes Derek’s stomach clench. 

Just like Derek and his own mother.

She makes her way over, hands holding a light green clothe, ready to get down to business, but then her eyebrows knit together.

“Allison, I’ll need one of your knives,” Melissa says, and Allison complies by pulling one out of her sleeve and handing it over. The green material gets passed to Allison as Melissa takes the knife.

Melissa is careful as she slides the blade under the waistband of Derek’s jeans, but Derek still winces, mostly out of embarrassment as the fabric rips all the way down his thigh.

“Sorry sweetie, but you need to get those down,” Melissa says and then she parts the material around the bolt, assessing the damage. “Well, no major arteries were hit. Just pull it on out,” Melissa tells Chris. She gives Derek an encouraging smile, clasps his hand to ground him, and then Chris is wrenching it out of his leg.

Derek screams. For a moment he thinks he’s channeling Lydia, because it comes out so loud, but the tone is much deeper. Blood starts pooling up from the wound, clumping the hair on his thigh together. A puddle of the blood bubbles out of the hole the bolt made. Derek cringes at Allison’s handiwork. It was a clean shot, even if it wasn’t met for him.

“I need skin-to-skin contact to heal you,” she assures him.

The blood slides down the meat of his leg and Melissa places her fingers over the wound. Derek feels the leech of pain right out of his skin, as if she’s taking it into herself. When she moves away, Derek is instantly relieved when he sees the skin is closed up.

“You’ll be fine,” Melissa says, “but why don’t you take a few days off from crime fighting.”

“Is this you ordering me to bed rest?” Derek asks, trying to close up his torn, bloody jeans, so he can stand without them flapping open.

“If you want to take it that way, then yes,” Melissa says with a smile. “Here. You should change into these.” She holds up the light green material she brought with her, revealing them to be scrubs. He assumes she’s joking, but he can’t catch the flare of playfulness. Just a tiredness and wealth of warm that’s definitely coming from within instead of outside.

“Something’s wrong,” Derek says after a moment.

“I’m pretty sure you’re fine,” Melissa tells him, handing him the light-weight pants in his grip.

“No,” Derek snaps, irritation making him raise his hackles. “My Gift isn’t working.”

Allison gasps. “Oh my God. I am so sorry!” she says, moving forward. “I completely forgot. I rubbed hecatolite on all of my bolt tips before we came out tonight.”

Derek collapses back into the seat of the car. “What?” he asks, hoping he’s heard wrong.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” Chris says.

Allison swallows. “I did.”

“Are you crazy?” Chris asks and Melissa looks at Derek with pity. “I said standard weapons.”

“Do you know what hecatolite does to one of us?” Derek asks, torn between anger and fear. Allison nods, but he really thinks she doesn’t. “My uncle still can’t shift. Not fully, all thanks to your aunt,” Derek snarls. He knows he’s being unkind, but he can’t stop himself.

“Can’t Mrs. McCall just take you to the hospital? Surely there’s something to counteract it,” Allison says.”

Derek huffs. “It doesn’t work like that. There isn’t some magical cure. Only time.”

Melissa takes a step back, looks down. She must be uncomfortable. “You really should head back to Panoptic,” Melissa supplies. “Report to your mission officer and debrief with Stilinski. He’s going to find out one way or another that you brought a student into battle.

Chris’ face goes blank and Derek has no idea what he’s thinking or feeling. It could be fear, because he might get in trouble for taking Allison out on mission with him. Chris doesn’t seem like the type to fall into fear though. Derek certainly hasn’t ever felt it coming from him.

“And you,” she says, turning to Derek. “Get those jeans off and change into something that isn’t stained with blood.”

They do as they’re told though, Allison sweeping away from them, most likely teleporting home, as Derek pulls off his boots and pants.

“If she’s going to see that boy, she’s grounded,” Chris says.

“What boy?” Derek asks, only mildly interested. The fact that he is at all is saying something.

“That McCall kid.” Ah, Scott, Derek surmises as he gets his scrubs pulled into place.

“My son, you mean,” Melissa says with a mean little grin. Derek can tell she’s just waiting for the bait to tear into him.

“Nothing against your son, but Allison broke the rules, which means she’s grounded,” Chris says with a sigh. “He’s a good kid. Allison just isn’t allowed to see him until she knows how to follow orders.”

Melissa’s eyebrows rise. “Isn’t she on heroine track?” When Chris nods, she continues with. “Not to step on any toes, but aren’t the heroes usually the ones giving orders? I don’t see Allison just laying back and letting everyone else call the shots.”

Chris’ jaw goes hard, but he doesn’t respond. Derek’s been working with Chris for a while now, and he won’t pretend to know his relationship with his daughter, but she seems strong-willed, even without tonight as an indicator. Lydia Martin might be class president, but Derek knows she gets most of her information from Allison, though he didn’t know how she was getting it until now.

Derek supposes once Lydia had her vision or whatever of Derek’s family dying, she went to Allison first. It was a pity really that they were too late to keep Uncle Peter out of the line of fire.

With Allison gone, Chris and Derek have to drop Mrs. McCall back at the hospital. She thanks them, because she’s sweet and every bit of what her son is, and then they head back to Greenbrier. The city is dark and dank and so much steel. Derek pretty much hates it after living his entire childhood in the woods.

It’s a quiet walk back into Panoptic, both of them grasping their keycards to the underbelly of the hotel. The woman at the counter barely glances at them as they pass her in the lobby, disappearing into the elevator.

Stilinski looks just as chipper as when they left him. It always surprises Derek that he never sleeps; is always ready for a raid or questioning. “You boys saved the hostages I take it?” he asks, setting an open file onto his desk. “That was rather quick.”

Stilinski’s eyes dart to the medical scrubs Derek’s wearing on his legs, not escaping his notice.

“Run into a bit of a mishap, did we?” Stilinski says.

“It’s my fault,” Chris starts. “I brought Allison out with us, and she accidently hit Derek with one of her bolts.” Stilinski’s eyebrows raise, probably not expecting that admission to come from Chris’ mouth. Derek can’t be sure, however, he can’t read his surprise anymore and body language is a different thing entirely.

“I assume Derek’s fine if he’s already walking,” Stilinski says, not even going for the bait of punishment.

“Melissa McCall healed him,” Chris answers.

Stilinski sighs. “You just brought everyone and their mother to the raid tonight, didn’t you?”

Chris smiles. “Well, technically I only brought my own kid. Yours and hers were perfectly fine at home.” Stilinski gives him a look that reminds Derek of Stiles.

“I know she’s going to be saving lives eventually, Stilinski says, “and you want to get her groomed for it, but not during one of my missions. Leave Allison at home until she actually has heroine stamped on her diploma.” He’s giving Chris a hard look, and the other man doesn’t argue. “Speaking of my son, however, I need to have a word with Derek. If you’ll excuse us, Argent.”

Derek’s stomach drops, but Chris nods, nudges Derek on the shoulder as he turns to leave. Derek has half a mind to scream for help. It would be so unbecoming, but he’s pretty sure he’s about to be murdered by Stiles’ father.

“We still have to get a beer one of these days,” Chris says as he leaves the room. “Tonight would have been a good one to drink to.”

The door shuts behind him, and Derek gulps when he turns his gaze back to Stilinski. The man has a stern set to his brow and jaw. It’s a look he’s seen plenty of times on his own mother when she was trying to cow him and his siblings growing up. Derek never thought he’d see it directed at him from somebody else’s parent.

“My son tells me that he wants to have your babies,” Stilinski deadpans, causing Derek to nearly choke on his own tongue because that was not what he was expecting to hear.

Derek coughs, trying not to die, and says, “I’m not sure that’s entirely possible, but I’d let him.” Stilinski cocks an eyebrow, and Derek replays what he just said in his head; realizes that probably wasn’t the best thing to admit. “I mean, when he’s older, of course! Once he’s out of Beacon Prep and saving lives and we’ve talked about it,” Derek rambles.

A small smile is making itself known at the corners of Stilinski’s mouth, and Derek is just relieved he hasn’t been shot with a full dose of hecatolite.

“You know what, son? Stop,” Stilinski urges.

Derek does. He shuts his mouth, because he’s pretty sure what he’s saying is nonsense anyway.

“Stiles told me all about how much he likes you, and whether that changes or not, it’s not my choice. Stiles is a big boy, and I trust that he’s old enough to make decisions about his love life,” Stilinski says. Derek kind of just stands there, mouth open because he’s pretty sure he’s imagining this whole conversation. “You’re only a couple years older than him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Derek’s not really sure. He hasn’t thought that far, because he didn’t really see a relationship unfolding for him.

“Heartbreak,” Stilinski tells him. “You might be Stiles’ first love, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be his last—”

Derek makes a noise in his throat, ready to defend his feelings for Stiles, which takes him by surprise. He wasn’t even sure he had any, until this moment. Stilinski cuts him off though.

“I’m not saying that this is a fool’s dream, you and him, but I do want you both to be realistic. Go into this knowing that it might not last forever, and be honest. Tell him you can’t feel, Derek.” Stilinski presses his lips together, looks like that might actually be the only reason he would disapprove.

“Actually sir,” Derek tells him. “Allison had hecatolite on her bolts, so right now would be the best time to let Stiles know how I really feel.”

Stilinski gives him a long look, like he wants to know, but can’t bring himself to be the one to find out first. Finally he settles on asking, “How long do you think you’ll be unable to work?”

“A few weeks…maybe a month or two,” Derek tells him. Stilinski nods.

“Alright then,” he says. “I guess I’ll see you when you’re feeling better. Or rather, when you’re not feeling anymore. You’re dismissed, Derek.”

Derek turns to leave. He gets his hand on the doorknob, and Stilinski starts talking again.

“By the way, just because I’ve given my approval of you and Stiles being together, doesn’t mean I approve of you two having sex.” There’s a warning in his tone, and Derek flushes all the way up to his ears. “Keep it in your pants until you both can make rational decisions. That might be a few years for Stiles.”

Derek nods, embarrassment making him red in the face and unable to respond with words.

  

 

 

Stiles is pretty sure school sucks. Not only did Scott and he beat the odds and win their first Save the Citizen, it was against the dynamic duo of Lydia and Jackson. Stiles expected just desserts, like popularity and a party, or a blowjob at least, which is why he’s sad to find Derek’s office empty before he heads to class. Greenberg is waiting there when he arrives, as per usual, and she doesn’t look pleased.

“My cry for help is going unanswered,” she says with a snap of her fingers. “This is clearly a sign.”

Stiles has no idea what she’s talking about. He decides to just turn around and head to class, because he doesn’t want to deal with crazy people today. Derek wouldn’t have given him a blowjob anyway. He’s classy like that.

Lydia actually talks to him during lunch. She seems pleased with Scott and him, which is not what he expected. It’s not popularity, but it is approval from the class president, which is something. Stiles mentally gives Scott a high-five. Allison gives him a secretive smile, like she knows exactly what he’s just done. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if she was a telepath as well. The girl is obviously flawless. Good taste in boys too, if Scott is any indication.

After lunch he heads straight for Derek’s office, following the clacking of Lydia’s heels. He has to sprint to catch up with her, which is just weird. “How do you that?” he wheezes, grasping her shoulder from behind.

She shoots him a startled look and asks, “Do what?”

“Move that fast in heels?” Stiles questions.

“That’s my other superpower,” Lydia smirks. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Mr. Hale.”

“Sure you do,” Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. She means meeting with her textbooks and lipstick. “I was wondering if I could have this period with him?”

Lydia blinks at him, as if he’s asking for her first born. “No.”

“Oh, come on! It’s really important,” Stiles pleads.

“I don’t see how letting you have almost an hour of safety net nookie is appropriate to my duties as class president.”

Stiles blushes. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds bad.” Lydia smiles, tries to resume walking, but Stiles stops her again. “Please Lydia? I just want to talk to him. In private.”

Lydia gives him a put upon sigh, as if he’s causing her some great inconvenience. “Fine,” she huffs, hiking her purse onto her shoulder. Stiles wonders if that’s where she keeps her books. It looks heavy enough to house her entire kitchen.

“Thanks,” Stiles says with a smile, folding her into a hug before he skips down the hall. Derek’s office door is open when he turns the corner, and as soon as Stiles slips inside he shuts the door. “Hey there.”

Derek looks up at him, gives him a smile that reaches his eyes and it takes Stiles breath away. What little he had left from running after Lydia.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, which wasn’t how Stiles imagined them reuniting, even it has only been a day.

“I just wanted to look at you a little and maybe convince you that kissing me on the lips would be a good thing to do,” Stiles says, pretty convincingly, he thinks. Derek just rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He’s still smiling though, which is something. Derek gets up from his seat and makes his way around his desk.

“I wasn’t expecting you, but I don’t mind that you’re here.” He comes to a stop in front of Stiles, where he’s still pressed up against the door. “I talked to your father last night.”

Stiles attempts to shrink in on himself. “Oh man, don’t talk about my father when I’m picturing you naked.”

“Quit picturing me naked,” Derek laughs.

“What you’re asking of me is pretty much impossible. Have you seen you?” He gestures to Derek’s face, then sweeps his arm down the length of him. The guy is pretty fucking hot. Derek shakes his head at him, grabbing his arm mid-flail.

“I talked to your father last night,” Derek says again.

“Like you do every night, I suspect,” Stiles replies. “You do work with him.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Derek asks, placing a hand over Stiles’ mouth. Stiles eyes dart down to the appendage that is clamped over half his face. It’s warm and soft, which is a bit unexpected. A guy like Derek, Stiles assumed his hands would be roughed up with callouses. The tips of his fingers are pressed against his jaw though, and they’re so smooth against his skin that Stiles is pretty sure he sighs, goes lax against the door. Derek makes it worse by smiling at his reaction and then saying, “As much as I love your voice, I need to tell you about important things, such as your dad’s approval.”

Stiles licks Derek’s hand, which he wrenches away, a disgusted expression crossing his features. “What approval?”

“You’re so gross,” Derek grouses, wiping his palm on his shirt. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

Stiles’ heart skips a bit when he hears the admission, but he knows it doesn’t mean much. “You can’t. You can’t even feel.” Derek huffs, air blowing out his nose dramatically.

“Shush,” he says. “Your dad approves of me and you,” Derek explains, gesturing between them.

Stiles wants to laugh, but instead he says, “Duh. I told you he wouldn’t mind. Honestly, I’m pretty sure a protector of the innocent is automatically given a thumbs-up in his book.”

Of course, Derek decides to be difficult. “What about your mom?” he asks, coming back into Stiles’ space, caging him against the door.

“My mom said you could use someone good in your life after last spring,” Stiles whispers. Derek has only a few inches between their mouths now, and he’s afraid that if he speaks too loudly he’ll scare him off. “Although, when she said ‘someone good’, I don’t think she was talking about me. No matter how good I can be,” he says, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue.

Derek’s eyes track the movement, and then he’s leaning in. Stiles eyes fall shut and he parts his lips, can feel the gust of air as Derek breathes against his mouth, and then a siren sounds.

It’s long and wailing, but not nearly as debilitating as Lydia’s scream. Derek huffs a laugh, face falling against Stiles’ jaw. “Do you think that’s a sign?” he asks, as Stiles shakes his head furiously.

“Hell no! That’s the emergency alarm, not the eminent orgasms bell,” Stiles exclaims.

“No one said anything about orgasms,” Derek points out, pulling back.

“I just did,” Stiles says with a waggle of his brows. “Come on. We’re supposed to evacuate the building.” He grabs Derek’s hand, reaching for the knob behind him to open the door with the other.

Derek asks, “Why don’t you just teleport us to the lawn?”

“My Gift was really only meant for me. It makes other people sick when I use it on them,” Stiles explains, tugging them out the door. “My mom says that once I’ve had training, I can probably do it without making people nauseous and green for days at a time.”

“Why don’t you practice on me?” Derek asks. Stiles gives him a look. “What? I might not be good at counseling, but I can help you with something. I want to.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. Scott had punched him in the arm after he had recovered from the sickness, and Heather hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after. They had to wipe her memory.

“Don’t get mad when your stomach hurts, okay?” Stiles says, and then tries to pull them onto the front lawn in a burst of color.

Tries being the operative word.

Stiles doesn’t budge an inch, and no glitter gets thrown into the air.

“Uh…I don’t think it worked,” Derek points out.

“Nice deduction skills,” Stiles complains. “Something’s wrong.”

“Like what?” Derek asks. “Can you not pull people with you anymore?”

“No. I can’t teleport at all,” Stiles says anxiously. “This only happens when I’m around hecatolite.”

“We need to see what’s going on,” Derek says. They move through the halls, hands dropped to their sides, because it won’t do anyone any good to have their fingers interlocked. They pass several students in the hall, all sharing the same looks of confusion. Stiles can see Matt Daehler failing to use his Gift. A heavy clicking noise leaving his fingertips and a cloud of steam, instead of jets of water.

They run into Scott and Allison outside the costuming lab, both looking a little frazzled. The wail of the siren is annoying more than anything. It’s nothing like Lydia Martin’s, which is just painful.

“I can’t move through the shadows,” Allison whispers when they get close to them. It’s hard to hear her over the siren.

“I can’t teleport either,” Stiles tells her a little loudly as more students and teachers alike file into the hallway. “I’m pretty sure we’re all going to die.”

Scott jumps at him, clamping a hand over his mouth. “Are you crazy? Let’s keep everyone calm instead of trying to send them into a panic,” Scott hisses. Stiles bites him. “Ow! What the hell, dude?”

“What is with everyone covering my mouth today?” Stiles asks. Scott shoots a look at Derek who shrugs.

The wailing stops and the PA system pops and fizzles, probably because it hasn’t been used since Allison was enrolled. It crackles before a voice fills the halls. “All students and staff please report to the Underdome for a surprise assembly! Please report to the Underdome.” The voice sounds familiar, the speaker a few feet away from them breaks in and out, and everyone around them looks wary; unsure.

Stiles understands completely, and he gulps, because why would they need their Gifts undone in order to have an assembly. A few of the people in the halls are walking around in dark cloaks, shooing people towards the entrance of the Underdome.

“Maybe it’s test?” Scott asks because he’s so sweet and believes the best in everyone.

“To see if any of us survive?” Stiles whispers. “I can imagine it now. All of us dead because we’re actually normal.”

“Shut up,” Derek orders. “This is unorthodox training—if that’s what it is, but we should do as we’re told.” Stiles notices the look that passes between him and Allison, and then he’s grabbing Stiles’ wrist.

“Cause that never got anyone killed before,” Stiles whines as he gets dragged below the school, where everyone is congregating. “Great. We’re all ripe for the slaughter.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” a girl says from behind him. She’s got a black cowl pulled over her face, but Stiles can see the dark tips of her curls. He knows exactly who is under that hood. “We’re not going to kill you.”

She swishes the material off her face, revealing her comely minx face. “You,” Scott mutters with a scowl as Stiles sneers.

“Greenberg. Of course it would be _you_ causing trouble,” Stiles says, and she shrugs with a little smile as the last people file into the room.

“Actually I’m trying to make things better for everyone, but I wouldn’t expect a hero to understand,” Greenberg taunts. She turns in her tennis shoes, making her way up to the stage, and Derek’s grip goes firm as the Underdome door slams.

“This is like a scene out of Harry Potter,” Stiles mutters. “Death Eaters everywhere.” Cloaked figures are standing all around the room, and Stiles is surprised they picked such awful costumes for villainy.

“Welcome!” Greenberg barks, “to reeducation.”

“This can’t be good,” Allison mumbles to Stiles’ left. The entire room starts to babble, looking nervous.

“Like I said: we’re all going to die,” Stiles reiterates loudly and the heroes next to him gasp.

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Greenberg calls down at him from the dais. “No one is going to die. Like that’s a way to become favored,” she sighs with a roll of her eyes. Stiles spots a few of his teachers, standing together and whispering to each other. He’s appalled that they aren’t trying to stop this, even without their Gifts, they’re supposed to be the superior beings in the room.

“You’ve all been brought here because we’re tired of being stuck in the dungeons and being told we’re not good enough,” Greenberg says, turning around to look at the room at large.

Someone in the crowd, probably an obnoxious hero who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut says, “You’re not!”

Greenberg grins. “And yet we somehow managed to incapacitate all of you and take over the school…just for the day though. We don’t want to keep you here, we just want to stop you from treating us like we’re only good enough to be your support.

“We’re just as good,” she continues, and her eyes flick to Stiles and Allison who are standing side by side. “I have the power of _Portation_ , just like you, but for some reason I was stuck down here in the sidekick classes. Hidden away.”

“You’re not a real _Porter_ ,” Mrs. Argent scoffs from the middle of the crowd. Stiles can’t see her very well, but he imagines she’s scowling, face hard and unmoving like her name suggests.

“Oh shut it!” Greenberg squawks. “Just because my powers aren’t exactly like your precious Allison, doesn’t mean she’s any better than me.” One of her cohort’s coughs, and Greenberg corrects herself. “Sorry, any of us.”

Her eyes are wide and mercurial, like her temper, it seems. Soft-spoken to screams in under a second.  “All we want is to be heroes too. Like McCall over here,” she says, gesturing to Scott, whose shoulders sag under the attention. Stiles would be a little bit worried about how fascinated Greenberg seems to be with them, but she’s doing the classic villain speech…except he’s not quite sure she’s a villain. She’s not waving a weapon manically and demanding they all be her slaves for the rest of eternity.

Weird, Stiles thinks, because all the movies he’s seen have not prepared him for this moment. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do in this situation, so he raises his hand. Derek and Scott simultaneously try to grab it, restrain Stiles from doing something stupid, he guesses.

Unfortunately for them, Greenberg sees it. “Yes, Stilinski?”

“So all you want is take heroine classes?” he asks. Greenberg narrows her eyes at him, as if searching for a double meaning to his words before she answers.

“Yes. That’s all we’ve ever wanted Stilinski,” she says. “It’s what I want for my brother when he finally gets to Beacon Prepatory.”

“Well, that’s fucking dumb,” Stiles says. He can hear gasp from the crowd, and Stiles wishes he had the patience to call them on their bullshit. As if they’ve never cursed before. Greenberg’s expression goes from mild confusion to anger in under a second though. “Why didn’t you just say so instead of taking the whole school hostage? I mean, do you know how long it takes to wash hecatolite off of stone?”

“Uh…not really?” Greenberg says. “But who cares! Like any of you would have listened if I’d just asked politely.”

Lydia Martin clears her throat and raises a hand, doesn’t wait for Desdemona to grant her permission to speak. “Just because transfer to hero classes was unheard of until McCall, doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have listened. As student body president it is my duty to listen to your concerns, and if you’d gathered a petition and asked for a meeting we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

Greenberg’s jaw is hanging open. Certain surprise written all over her face.

“That would have been nice to know,” she says.

“Well, I’m telling you now, and since most of the sidekicks seem to be on your side in this, I’d say permission for transfer granted,” Lydia says. She sounds bored, and Stiles wonders if it’s because this is the worst hostile takeover in history. “Can we go home now? I’ve got a documentary on Netflix waiting for me.”

Desdemona’s expression seems surprised, as if she was up for a fight to get what she wanted. “So you’re just going to let us into your classes?”

“Oh my God,” Lydia says. “Mrs. Argent can you handle fixing their class schedules and decide what’s going to be taught in the Dungeon now? I’m not getting paid for this.”

Mrs. Argent does take over, though she doesn’t look pleased about it. Allison says that she’s never pleased. Well, she is, but talking about it is potentially scarring for Allison. Stiles laughs, because he knows that look. He hopes Allison’s had the pleasure to hear them going at it in the middle of the night. Or day. Stiles doesn’t really know what they like, but he’s betting The Silver Soldier can make Mrs. Argent the most delightful person on earth once he’s gotten his hands on her.

It’s kinda gross to think about.

The Underdome doors are opened though, letting everyone leave, and Derek places his hand on Stiles’ shoulder to lead him out. Mrs. Argent stops them, narrows her eyes at where Derek’s hand is, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead she says, “Mr. Hale, I assume you realize this means an influx of students coming to your office when they can’t cope with acclimation.”

Derek smiles like a shark. “I hope you realize that you’re not giving them nearly enough credit.” Stiles’ eyes go all big and round because Derek continues walking, without waiting for Mrs. Argent’s retort.

 

 **************

It’s surprising to say the least that Desdemona only wanted equality instead of trying to take over the school and eventually the world. Stiles had her pegged for a villain, but apparently misunderstandings are all the rage.

Stiles also swore Derek wasn’t going to lean against his desk and let Stiles slide right in between his legs.

They headed back to Derek’s office so he could gather his things, but Stiles had other plans while the school was covered in hecatolite. It really can’t be helped when Stiles gets a hand between them and unbuckles Derek’s slacks.

“You really need to stop,” Derek says into his mouth. Stiles lets out a frustrated sigh, but doesn’t stop working his pants open, pulling his dick out.

“I say this is well earned. We both just survived a possible take-over, you garnered my father’s approval, and I’d like to do this while you aren’t under my emotional influence,” Stiles says hurriedly. When he removes his hand, he pushes his pelvis forward, grinds them together so they are hip to hip. Derek’s bare cock slides against the fabric of his jeans. Sweet friction that just isn’t good enough.  
“I wasn’t under your influence,” Derek placates him. “And if it helps, I want to do this. I even want to fuck you.”

Stiles whines in his throat.

“I’d like your first time to be in a bed though,” Derek says, and it’s very sweet of him. Very gentlemanly, but Stiles isn’t that kind of guy.

“I want my first time right here,” Stiles says with a smile. “Where anyone can just walk in and see you riding my dick.” Derek’s breath blows out hot against his cheek, and he pushes Stiles away, which makes his heart give a pathetic, rejected lurch.

“We’re locking the door,” Derek says, taking a step forward to turn the catch, and then he’s stepping back into Stiles’ space. “We can have mutual orgasms, but I don’t have lube, and your dad will kill me if we have sex the night after he gave me a talking to.”

“Good enough for me,” Stiles says, grabbing the clasp of Derek’s open belt and tugging it so it breaks free of every loop on his slacks. He’s quick to help Derek out of his pants. Almost laughs when Derek trips trying to get his shoes off, and Stiles is just thankful that it’s someone else that is being ungraceful for once.

When Derek rights himself, Stiles’ stomach swoops. Derek’s muscled thighs are bare and hairy. His dick is jutting out from right under the hem of his shirt. The look on Derek’s face seems nervous, and Stiles wishes that he had _Empathic_ powers for a moment. He wants to know what Derek is feeling, because he can actually feel on his own for once.

Derek’s eyes slide up, meeting Stiles’ own and he asks, “Aren’t you going to touch me?”

Stiles blushes. He’d been so enthralled with watching Derek that he’d completely forgotten he was allowed to. He gets his pants open, and Stiles can’t help himself when he steps forward, puts his hands against Derek’s chest and feels, the twitch of muscle below his fingertips, right through the fabric of his Derek’s button-down. He can’t help it when he slides his hands around to Derek’s back and pulls their bodies together, rocking Derek’s body against his cock. It’s still trapped in his underwear, but the feel of Derek pressed against him, doesn’t make it feel any less good.

Stiles brain shorts out a little, arms going slack, when Derek manages to turn around. His hands splay out against the top of his desk and then he leans over, rubs his ass against Stiles’ underwear clad dick. Stiles grabs at Derek’s hip to stop him.

“Oh my God, don’t do that,” Stiles begs. “I thought you said we weren’t having sex?”

Derek looks at him over his shoulder, and Stiles makes a noise in his throat. “We’re not. Just pull your underwear down.”

Stiles complies. Frees his dick from the confines of his boxer-briefs, gives it a firm stroke before leaning his hips forward. He spreads Derek’s ass cheeks, rubs the tip of his cock against Derek’s hole causing Derek to shudder.

“Stop it,” Derek warns. “You’re not fucking me for a long time. Not unless you want your dad to kill me.”

“Then why are we doing this,” Stiles groans.

Derek laughs and Stiles doesn’t realize Derek’s reaching between his thighs, until he’s got hold of Stiles’ dick. Stiles hopes for a moment that Derek is going to guide him inside, but instead he gets Stiles right between his legs.

Stiles has to admit, he’s no expert on how two men have sex, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t it.

“Uh,” Stiles says, intelligently. “I’m not sure—” And then Derek squeezes his thighs together, cutting off Stiles’ words.

“Move,” Derek orders so Stiles does. He’s not above doing what he’s been told, unless its chores, and fuck this feels good.

“Am I doing it right?” he asks, pushing his hips forward and then back. Derek laughs.

“I don’t think you can fuck this up,” he answers. Stiles leans forward and bites his shoulder in retaliation making Derek gasp. “Fuck.” Stiles smiles against his skin.

It doesn’t take long, but then he starts rutting against Derek. His dick is trapped between Derek’s thighs, and it would probably feel better with lube, but skin on skin is better than anything.

“So much better than humping my sheets,” Stiles tells him.

“Jesus Christ,” Derek moans, and Stiles can practically feel him rolling his eyes. Stiles didn’t think Derek could still be an asshole while they were trying to get off, but it warms his heart that Derek’s just that good. Stiles snaps his hips forward and reaches down to get his hand around Derek’s cock, and Derek drops his forehead onto the desk as Stiles starts to stroke him.

“Tell me…I wanna know what you’re feeling. Before it’s gone,” Stiles says, grabs the meat of Derek’s ass with his other hand as he asks.

Derek tries to raise his head, but it makes a _thunk_ as Stiles changes the angle of his thrust, so the tip of his dick is hitting the back of Derek’s balls every time he shoves forward. Derek squeezes the muscles of his thighs around Stiles before answering.

“I don’t think this counts,” he says. “I can still feel pleasure.” One of his arms shifts a little from where it’s resting on the desk, and he reaches forward to grab the edge of it to steady himself against Stiles’ pushing him forward, and pulling him back, hand working over Derek’s dick. His balls feel heavier each time the head of Stiles’ cock push at the back of them. He can feel himself leaking in Stiles hand.

“That’s not what I meant,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s back. He’s got his forhead against Derek’s sweaty shoulder blade, and they feel connected at every point even though they are only touching, not inside one another. 

“I know,” Derek says, but he doesn’t elaborate, just continues to rock back against Stiles so his ass is flush with Stiles hips, drawing noises from Stiles’ throat until they’re both coming. Derek all across the front of his desk and Stiles’ hand, ropes of and Stiles all down Derek’s thighs. It’s quiet between them for only a few stilted moments before Derek takes his weight off the desk and puts his back against Stiles’ chest.

“You know, this was technically still sex,” Stiles comments, and Derek doesn’t answer. Doesn’t bother, and Stiles kisses the side of his neck. Derek clears his throat after a few seconds of Stiles’ ministrations, however.

“I should warn you, I don’t really know if this is love, because I’ve never felt it from myself, only from others. Mostly from my parents,” Derek says, turning himself in Stiles’ arms. “I’d say no,” Derek tells him, which breaks Stiles’ heart a little bit, but Derek grabs his chin when Stiles tries to turn his face away. “But I feel something for you, which is more than I can say for anyone else, and that’s got to be something, right?”

Derek’s got this hopeful, lopsided smile across his mouth and Stiles can’t help but lean forward and kiss it, which is all the answer Derek needs.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> artwork is mine
> 
> You can follow me on [Tumblr](http://www.reliand.tumblr.com)


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